


Change My World

by charlotteschaos



Series: Change My World [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gillyweed, M/M, Pre-Half-Blood Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 72,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post OotP/Pre HBP. Rampaging hormones lead to an adventure between Harry and Draco that changes everything. Fluff/Angst/Drama/Humor - all that good stuff</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first big fanfic and was the longest thing I'd ever written at the time. I was a newbie and made all of the rookie mistakes. I hate to remove the zeitgeist of the original, though, so I've put it up as it has been since I wrote it in 2004. I like to think I've come a long way as a writer and the popularity of this story pushed me to write more and explore which is a huge debt I owe to the HP fandom.

Draco Malfoy had nothing better to do. It was the sad truth. The day had been long and uneventful. Double Arithmancy was like a slow brain death, and then to follow it up with Divination. Well, such were Wednesdays in the world of a sixth year Slytherin. Neither class was even shared with Gryffindor and taunting a chair was, on its worst day, more interesting than telling off a Hufflepuff. They would just stand there and stare at you incredulously and ask, "What did I do?" And then they would apologize. Honestly.

His Prefect badge glittered in the dim light of the guttering candles. The corridor echoed with the clamor of Draco's footfalls. His head was lowered; pale hair flopped with his swaggering gait as he stared at the stone floor. He wasn't depressed; he was simply bored. Bored, that is until he turned a corner and heard shuffling steps ahead of him. It was so close to curfew and they were so in the middle of the castle and away from any of the houses; someone was so busted. Draco could only hope that it wasn't another Prefect.

And it wasn't.

It was Harry Potter.

Harry _fucking_ Potter.

Saint Potter.

Dumbledore's Golden Boy.

Brilliant.

The blond Slytherin's features filled out with a predatory glee as he double-timed his steps to catch up to the brooding boy. Harry was always with the brooding, but not always without the friends. Draco wondered what it was the disfigured boy had to really brood about. After all, he was the one who sent Malfoy's father to prison. He should be doing cartwheels down the corridor. There again, he reasoned, having a homicidal would-be dictator with scads of unidentifiable followers plotting your untimely demise often sucked the bliss out of life's little victories.

" _P_ otter."

"Malfoy?" Harry questioned. As if anyone else sibilated the first letter of his last name in quite the drawl-but Harry had been deep in thought about his future, which seemed likely to come to a rather abrupt end at any moment. Although this wasn't his first choice in company, the break in his morbid mind spiraling was a bit of a relief. And at least he could vent his spleen rather guiltlessly at the blond. "What do you want?"

"Out a bit late, aren't we?" Malfoy drawled, looking down at his withdrawn pocket watch whose silver outer shell was squirming with an animate dragon that glared menacingly at Harry, as if nothing Draco Malfoy even possessed liked the brunette.

Harry shrugged. "Just having a walk."

"After curfew."

For a moment, Harry's green eyes went wild. Was it really that late? He rocked onto his tiptoes to read Draco's watch upside down, requiring proof that it was, in fact, late. Draco tipped the watch back for Harry to observe.

"Oh. Well, sorry," Harry offered, not sure what to say. He couldn't exactly argue the point of the time. For a mad second he thought perhaps he could question the accuracy of Draco's watch but as he turned his head to peer at the windows and saw the darkness outside, and given the emptiness of the corridor, he realized that it was likely that Draco was right.

"Sorry. Hah! 10 poin-no... 20 points from Gryffindor!"

"20 points for walking through the hall after curfew?" Harry questioned with his brows up.

"10 points for being out after curfew, 10 points for being an utter dag."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You can't deduct points for not liking me."

"Are you a Prefect?" Draco quizzed.

"No."

"Then how would you know what I can and cannot deduct points for?" Draco asked as he tilted his head to the side and sneered.

"Fine. Whatever, Malfoy. Ron or Hermione will just take points from a random Slytherin tomorrow," Harry snitted.

Rolling his eyes, Draco pocketed his watch and crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted his weight to one leg and slouched arrogantly. "Actually, they wouldn't. Weasley's too dense to know he can, and Granger wouldn't think it was right. You and your whole clan are worthless lackwits; I should dock points for your even mentioning them, and then more for your threatening my house points. Then perhaps more for your insinuation that I am being unfair."

"You are unfair, and there's no rule against whom I can bring up in conversation, Malfoy. I'll go to Dumbledore!" Harry asserted.

"You would, wouldn't you? And I bet Dumbledore would fix it all right up for you, too. You are his little pet, his Golden Boy. Helps you cheat in Quidditch too, I bet. Youngest Seeker in a century, my ass-we all know he's been doing the work for you all along!"

It was the only thing Harry had earned. Being the Boy-Who-Lived was bestowed on him. Tri-Wizard tournament had been fixed for him to be in and ultimately win. Sure, he'd escaped Voldemort, but mostly with help from his friends and the blood sacrifice of his mother. But being a Seeker; that was his. He did that on his own, with his talent. His eyes glared angrily for a moment and a myriad of nasty things came into his head to say to Draco. But glaring up at him, he could tell that statement had been carefully crafted to cause an outburst and for once, Harry just wasn't going to go for it.

"Good night, Malfoy," he seethed.

Damn it. Draco had been certain that his goading would result in an apoplectic fit that would have been both amusing to mock and would lose Gryffindor more house points. But instead it was... goodnight? Leaving? Boredom. Not that he wanted to spend all night mucking about with Potter in the hallway, but he was so rarely roaming about alone and arsing him off was almost as good as a floor show.

"What, no goodnight kiss?" Draco mocked to Potter's back.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head to glare incredulously at the pale blond who almost seemed to glow in the hallway.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Draco taunted, perking a brow that his question had stopped the raven-haired boy's retreat.

"You want me to kiss you," Harry stated. It wasn't a question. He had heard Malfoy, but there were just some things you'd hoped you'd misheard.

Did Draco want Harry to kiss him? Fat chance. He hadn't exactly thought this segment of the conversation through. In fact, he pretty well had only thought of one scenario of how this exchange would go in the limited time he'd spent pondering it before he said it. He believed truly that Harry would squall and protest, perhaps even flee in terror. This reaction was now officially awkward and Draco started to fidget. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You just said-"

"I'm aware of what I said. I said it."

"So you want-"

"I didn't say I wanted you to do it, I said-"

"So you don't want me to kiss you?"

"No," Draco asserted.

"Then why did you bring it up?" Harry asked simply as he turned fully around, enjoying the unease he was causing the Slytherin.

Now Draco was starting to cringe. "It was a joke, Potter. You know, ha-ha?"

"Not exactly a punch line, is it?" he asked as he folded his arms and mimicked the patented Malfoy swagger towards him.

"Argh, get away from me you queer!" Draco said, taking a step back.

This was far too amusing for Harry to give up now. He had Malfoy scared. Scared!

"But I want to kiss you goodnight!" Harry lilted, his green eyes shining with victory.

"That isn't necessary. Go on, get to your dorm before I dock more points!" Draco menaced, trying to declare control back over where this was going.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry asked, tilting his head in clear mocking of Draco's usual expression.

"You wish," Draco said, with much less conviction than Harry had when they dueled.

Forgetting entirely that Harry had only endured one kiss, and that one had been from a crying girl and that he had barely even participated in it, Harry lunged forward and gripped Draco by the shoulders and mashed their lips together. He knew nothing at all about kissing, which he proved by slamming his forehead against Draco's. His teeth gnashed against his own lips in the awkward bump before Harry pushed out his lips and made a loud and childish smacking noise.

Pushing Potter away, Draco brought his hand up to his mouth, "You hag! You bit me! Merlin, what was that?" Draco was squealing as his hand moved up to massage his brushed lips to ease the pain from Harry's rough slamming of their faces together.

Fighting the urge to flee this humiliation, Harry stood there staring dumbly. He felt a pang of guilt, as he knew that Draco probably was in some amount of pain, as his own lips were sore. Harry brought his tanned and calloused hand up to his own lips to check for bleeding and winced. "It... I... it was a kiss."

"That was not a kiss. That was... you bit me!"

"I did NOT bite you! My mouth wasn't even open, Malfoy!"

"You're a savage! I should dock points!"

"You're going to dock points for a goodnight kiss?"

"That wasn't a kiss, that was an attack!" the Slytherin squealed.

Harry was blushing furiously. This was mortifying. No, it was beyond mortifying, it was demeaning. "Like you could do better!"

Draco closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. "Bloody wild BOARS could do better than THAT!"

"Prove it!"

"You wish."

"You can't," Harry hissed. No, he shouldn't have said that. He was goading Malfoy now and that was actually not very smart. Particularly since he'd had Malfoy on the ropes before and he was just now starting to recover his cockiness. Harry should scamper- most definitely.

Flipping back his hair, Draco strode to Harry. He cupped his hands roughly on either side of Harry's face and jabbed his thumb in the hollow place under the tanned boy's bottom lip and forced his jaw slightly lax. Titling his head one-way and Harry's the other; he craned his neck to close the distance between their faces.

At first, he simply kneaded Harry's lips with his own, pulsing them carefully until he felt it, that exhale from the other boy that told him he was disarmed enough not to bite his tongue off. Pointing his slick muscle delicately over the break in Harry's lips, he teased for a moment before feeling Harry's tentative tongue flicking back at his. At this provocation, Draco sealed their lips together and slipped his tongue lavishly against Harry's. Giving the other boy's mouth a cursory and quick exploration, he slid his hands down from Harry's face to caress his neck and then down to his shoulders.

Draco gave Harry's shoulders a quick squeeze before his tongue gently caressed its goodbye to Harry's and he broke the luxuriant kiss. Harry didn't move away just yet and neither did Draco. Both boys were licking their lips, savoring the taste of one another, eyes closed as they felt the warm condensation of breath against their cheeks.

It was Harry who leaned in and gave a temperate peck to Draco, and Draco moved back in to return it. After a few more pecking kisses, their arms clinched one another and their passionate embrace was reborn. Harry had never kissed before. Draco had never kissed a boy before. And neither of them had kissed anyone in a hallway.

An open hallway.

A very, very open hallway.

Just how open this hallway was seemed to occur to them both about the same time. They froze and their eyes opened, which seemed to alert them to just who it was each was kissing. Draco Malfoy was shocked to realize he was snogging Harry Potter. Harry Potter was astonished that his first real kiss was being shared with Draco Malfoy.

Clearing his throat, Draco made the first noise between them and started to pull back.

"Um..." Harry said pulling his arms away slowly and letting them droop at his sides.

"Yes," Draco vocalized as his hands likewise pulled away and he sniffed and rubbed his nose as he took a large step back.

"It's umm... really late," said Harry as he staggered further away.

"After curfew," asserted Draco as he stood watching Harry stumbling back.

"Right, I should umm... go," stated Harry who looked up one more time at Draco and then turned and started to walk away.

"Goodnight," Draco called after him.

If he turns to look at me one more time before he turns the corner, he's mine.

If he's still looking when I turn, he's mine.

Harry reached the end of the corridor and looked back over his shoulder to quickly glance at Draco standing where he'd been when they parted.

Rounding the corner, Harry blushed and smiled.

Turning around to head to Slytherin, Draco smiled and blushed.

He wants me.


	2. The Kiss

Sexual tension is a funny thing. And it was rife between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy for an entire week. No one in the school quite believed that this recent and heightened spate of hexes, leers and jeers could possibly be over only 20 lost House Points but no one had quite worked up the courage to ask either boy what it was actually all about. In fact, the few who had even implied that there might be something more to their current brawl were shortly after their unwise ejaculation found in Madame Pomfrey's care.  
  
Ron was angry. Hermione was afraid. Crabbe and Goyle were enduring no less than five rants per day dedicated to how much better the school, no life in general, would be were the Boy Who Should Have Died never to have come to his school. Potter and Malfoy truly believed the other was mad for him. Both believed with all of their hearts that all the other thought about had to be them; and that any moment now they would come crawling to him begging for another kiss. But neither was going to be the first. That would be admitting defeat. And neither boy was going to give up.  
  
Because of this level of aggression and malice between the boys, no one was particularly surprised when violence broke out during double Herbology. In the midst of Neville Longbottom's presentation about the Mimbulus mimbletonia where he was explaining about Stinksap, Malfoy was overheard to be implying that Longbottom was stinky. Draco was about to go on to call him sappy when Harry Potter leapt atop the worktable in front of him and lunged towards the Slytherin. Aside from the fact that Potter had begun to forcefully throttle Malfoy, the Gryffindor frustrated half a room's worth of Mimbulus mimbletonia, which, in its own defense, coated the entire greenhouse in Stinksap.  
  
While both houses fled the reek and possibility of finding themselves covered in even more of the viscous fluid, Potter and Malfoy fought valiantly. Not one to shrink from fighting dirty, Draco pulled up one leg and slammed his knee between Harry's legs, causing the brunette to shriek in pain and curl his legs up. Unintentionally, but without its ironic justice, Potter's lurching leg, impacted Draco's own bits and pieces, causing him to also squall and scream in pain. Though both boys had clearly gotten their just desserts, Professor Sprout still found the need to assign them both detentions which were, perhaps a bit unwisely, assigned together.  
  
**  
  
"I am not going into the forest with him. The last time I was in there with him... I almost died."  
  
"No one is interested enough in you to kill you, Malfoy," Potter retorted.  
  
Hagrid sighed. They'd fought all through Care of Magical Creatures only shutting up when the Erumpent, a magical creature of the one-horned variety who holds an explosive fluid in its horn; rammed itself into a tree to escape the squabbling, blowing itself up. And even then, it was only long enough to marvel at the explosion. Then they began to accuse the other of causing the creature's suicide.  
  
Deep down, Hagrid knew that sending the quarrelling boys into the forest together was trouble. They would clearly be making entirely too much noise to keep creatures that might eat them from noticing them. However, Dumbledore seemed to think that it might teach them a bit of a lesson if the were attacked, and though it was a bit of a risky game, he was fairly certain that Potter was protected by the Prophecy.   
  
"Righ' then, 'ere ye go," Hagrid said as he gave both dragon skin gloved boys the heavy iron buckets to collect the Fanged Geraniums in. Malfoy looked dispassionately at the oaf and gave him little other than a sneer before glaring at Harry, whose fault he believed it was that he was carrying out such a menial task.  
  
"Ladies first, Malfoy," Harry said as he held out his gloved hand and gave an exaggerated bow.   
  
"You'd like that, wouldn't you Potter? Have me go first so you can stare at my bum, you nancy!"  
  
"Watch who you're calling a nancy, you ponce. Are those yet another pair of new shoes?" Harry snarked as Draco glared and pointed for Harry to go first.  
  
"Why yes, Potter, they are new. Not all of us care to dress like a Weasley. But I do hear that 'derelict' is in this year, so perhaps someone will appreciate your... fashion statement," he snorted as he indicated Harry's oversized Muggle clothing.  
  
Having no response to that other than wanting to smack that smug look off of Draco's face for insulting his best friend, Harry turned and headed into the forest. The Gryffindor rationalized that he could easily beat Malfoy in the forest without forcing Hagrid to have to cover for him for doing it.  
  
Malfoy watched the sway of the fabric that thinly concealed the shape of Harry's well-formed arse. It wasn't really his intention to do so, or so he told himself. He simply wanted Potter to go first in case anything did happen to come at them. Better it should happen to the disheveled Golden Boy than to someone who actually mattered. So transfixed by the outline of the boy's posterior was Malfoy, that he hadn't heard Harry's whispering.  
  
"Malfoy!" Potter finally said indignantly as he whirled around. Spotting the location of where Draco's eyes were, Harry forgot entirely that he was going to comment on how eerily quiet the forest had grown.   
  
"Well, well, well, just what were you looking at there, Malfoy?"  
  
"I was watching the ground for Devil's Snare," he said indignantly.  
  
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Devil's Snare traditionally grow about three feet lower than you were currently looking?"  
  
"Pfft."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Draco was stalling for an explanation; "I was about to look at your face from the ground since you were bellowing at me!"   
  
"Mhm."  
  
"I was!"  
  
"I believe you."  
  
"I was not looking at your arse!"  
  
His denial was as good as an admission and while Harry should have pounced on it, he suddenly found himself entirely too embarrassed by the concept to do anything other than to blush furiously. To disguise this response, he turned his back to Draco. Suddenly self-conscious about the Slytherin reexamining his hindquarters, he turned back around, only to again realize his face would give him away. In his indecision, Harry turned sideways and then realized that showed both and was about to whirl around again when he heard a strange, high-pitched staccato noise coming from the direction of his companion.  
  
Draco Malfoy was giggling. Not cackling. Not snorting derisively. Giggling.  
  
Realizing that he'd been caught in such an undignified act, Draco clapped his hands over his mouth, but his shaking shoulders were giving him away. Watching Harry in that bizarre and confused dance was entirely too much. And worse, it was too cute. Finally he choked out, "Practicing for the Hogwarts Dance Squad?" Clutching his stomach and finally bending over, he could no longer control his cackle any longer and it pealed through the Forbidden Forest dangerously.  
  
"Oh my God, I hate you!" Potter cried out, again, entirely too loudly in a forest full of angry creatures. Flinging down his arms, the gloves were off and he pulled his hands back up, ready to fight. It was on.  
  
This action only caused Draco to laugh harder. Although now he was trying to control it because he did want to finally have it out with Harry, every time he blinked, the thought of the green-eyed boy going wild with physical indecision about how to stand sent him into another fit. Still, he shoved off his gloves and brought his fists up. He wasn't terribly good with physical fighting; he was a wizard, after all. But there were just some things that a man had to settle with bare hands.   
  
"I don't know why you're bringing up your fists, Potter, your lips were dangerous enough, if I recall."  
  
It was the first reference made to the kissing debacle that had happened one week and a few hours ago. Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco for a moment. It felt a little like the first punch.  
  
"If it hurt you so badly, why did you stay and stick your forked tongue in my mouth, Malfoy?"  
  
"You begged me!"  
  
"I dared you!"  
  
"You wanted it!"  
  
"I wanted my house points back!"  
  
"Oh, so you're a whore now? Think I'd pay you in House Points? You know, I don't have to bribe people to kiss me. I get loads of kisses on my own!"  
  
That stung a bit, but Harry shook it off, "You brought up kissing in the first place!"  
  
"I didn't think you'd do it! I didn't know you were a flaming queer when I said it!"  
  
"I am not GAY!"  
  
"You kissed a boy, doesn't that-" Draco's voice broke off as a huge shadow started to approach them. His eyes widened in terror and he flinched, frozen on the spot.  
  
"I'm not falling for that again, Malfoy. Going to claim there's a Dementor?" Harry asked as he rolled his eyes. Then he heard it, a low and rumbling roar. Harry's hand flew down to his pocket and retrieved his wand. He heard the sound of galloping. Fuck. Centaurs. Firenze-less centaurs. Centaurs who no longer considered him a child: dangerous centaurs.  
  
Harry hadn't really followed through the thought that magic was basically useless against creatures. He simply turned around; his eyes wide and alert, ready to fend off whatever it was that was coming at them. The bold Gryffindor started to back up protectively in front of Malfoy. He felt back behind him only to find that Malfoy wasn't there. He'd just whipped his head back to note that Draco Malfoy was no longer behind him when he was grabbed and yanked off of the trail and into a hedge of Flutterby Bushes.  
  
The quivering bush was great cover, really. It allowed the two squirming and relentless boys someplace to hide without having to be completely still. Harry turned his head and looked at the blond who had his back clutched tightly against his chest. Using the excuse that he shouldn't move too much as he saw Bane stalking about, glaring down at the forlorn dragon skin gloves and iron buckets, Harry relaxed into the grip.   
  
Draco closed his eyes. Harry Potter smelled utterly like a boy: musty clothes, soap and perspiration. And having his arms around him felt rather nicer than he'd expected. Not that he'd given that any thought, mind you. But now that it was thrust upon him, he did his best to-- then he realized where his left hand was. Further he realized that Harry's wand was drawn and the hardness in his pants probably wasn't a torch.   
  
This was about the time that Harry also realized that his proximity to the mint and rosemary smelling boy had caused him a reaction of the most embarrassing kind. He stood there, starting to quietly panic, willing his erection down. Focusing hard on the danger he was in almost started to work until Draco's body and- dear god his hand- shifted. "Stop moving!" he hissed quietly.  
  
"Are you sure that's what you really want, Potter?" Draco insinuated.  
  
That was it. Impending trampling by magical creatures or not, Harry Potter was not going to allow Draco Malfoy to know that he was hard! Of course, Draco Malfoy already knew that, but Harry Potter's blood was far south of his thinking head.  
  
"You just touched me there!" Harry whispered desperately, his voice shielded just enough by the Flutterby bushes that Bane seemed to not notice. In fact, the Centaur seemed to be more interested in sniffing at the gloves than their present whereabouts.  
  
"You are hard!"  
  
"Because you touched me!"  
  
"You were hard when I touched you!"  
  
"I'm a teenaged boy!"  
  
"You're a gay teenaged boy!"  
  
"You still haven't moved your hand!"  
  
"Oh, you want me to move it?" Draco whispered as he started to idly stroke the front of Harry's pants.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"What does it feel like I'm doing?" Malfoy's heart was pounding in his chest. Why in the world was he doing this? It seemed a good gag at the time, but now that Potter was squirming against him....  
  
"Are you going to..." he whispered even lower, "Jerk me off?"  
  
"I don't know, Potter, it's only our second date, and you haven't even bought me dinner yet. I'd hate for you to think I was trampy," Draco whispered into the softly curved shell of Harry's ear.  
  
Harry shivered at the feel of the warm breath of the boy against his ear and the feeling of someone else's hand stroking him. That they were outside and in danger seemed to make the whole tableau even more erotic, making the virgin Gryffindor's length ache.   
  
Trampy or not, the way that Harry was now melting back against Draco was intoxicating. His body had long since responded to the press of the raven-haired boy against him and he tentatively pressed his hips forward against Harry's ass. In response, the Gryffindor pushed back against it and slowly flexed his hips to stimulate Malfoy's erection.  
  
Both boys wanted desperately to gloat over the other's arousal. Fortunately both boys also knew that if they did that this would come to an abrupt and rather disruptive end. So neither said a word.  
  
Draco moved his hands to Harry's belt and tried quietly to pull the tine from the hole in the leather. Harry slipped his hands behind him to Draco's trousers, trying to same maneuver with his fingers, only blindly and backwards.   
  
Carefully, Draco let the belt dangle and went for the button and finally the zipper. Though he didn't say anything to Harry, he did hope the boy would have the good sense to close his thighs as Draco folded the closure of Harry's pants back so he could slip his hand under the elastic of the boy's plain white underwear. Sadly, Harry wasn't quite thinking and his pants dropped from his hips. Normally the sound of fabric hitting the ground, even with a slightly tinkling belt wouldn't be cause for great alarm. However, with an angry centaur just yards away, every noise is earth-shattering.  
  
With Draco's head on Harry's shoulder, four eyes glared out from the bushes frightfully. Bane turned in a slightly skewed direction at the noise and his head stayed up and alert to any further rustling. The boys froze where they were, staring intently. Fingers still on Malfoy's half undone zipper, Harry was holding his breath as the magical creature started to pace in the skewed direction he'd been looking in.   
  
Warning sign noted, Draco clamped his thighs closed to avoid another noise like that. The Gryffindor boy was almost too scared to continue until Draco's slightly tepid pale hand slipped under his waistband and he started to gently stroke the very pads of his fingers up and down his shaft. Harry let out a long and ragged breath at this first contact of skin that was not his own against his frustrated manhood.  
  
Not to be outdone, however, Harry quickly jammed a hand down Draco's silken boxers, feeling the wet patch on the fabric where the precum had soaked through. It was the first erection that wasn't his own that he'd ever touched. He marveled at its smoothness, at the weight of it in his hand. He'd never stroked one that wasn't his own and the shape felt oddly but erotically different than his own. However, this angle was difficult for him.  
  
Sinking his chin deeper into the green-eyed boy's shoulder, Draco fished Harry's length out and peered down at its perfect peachiness in his pale hand. Wrapping his hand around it, Draco rolled his fingers in, flexing them in a strumming motion that he preferred on his own, letting Harry feel the different subtle textures that his flesh created for him. Harry let out a moan of pleasure as his fingers scrabbled almost wildly at Malfoy's length behind him.  
  
Draco didn't much care for Harry's inexperienced fingers clutching him nervously and too tight. Nor was Potter really able to perform like this. But he didn't wish his erection to go neglected. Then he had an idea. Pushing the boy's hand away from his blushing pink prick, he slid it up between Harry's thighs. He didn't think Harry would worry overmuch that he was going to be penetrated as he was still wearing his gleaming white underpants. And, in fact, Harry wasn't worried at all.   
  
Harry was worried about very little at the moment save for the feel of Draco's hand on his dick and whether Bane was coming this way. At feeling the Slytherin's erection between his thighs, he clamped his thighs shut and pushed back at him instinctively. Draco's pastel lips parted and he breathed hotly against Harry's chin as he watched his hand covering and pulling at the Gryffindor's manhood luxuriantly.  
  
With the risk of being caught and the extreme taboo of what they were doing and with whom and the utter wrongness of it all, neither would last long. Bane seemed to have given up, and began to trot off into the distance, leaving Draco free to slide against Potter's clenched thighs with more abandon, causing a quiet slapping noise amongst the soft fluttering of leaves around them.   
  
"Oh God, Malfoy," Harry whimpered as he felt the first wave of his release hit and coat the bush before him under the half light of the filtered moon.   
  
Watching the thin ropes of Harry's ejaculate spew out made Draco's abdomen burn and soon his scrotum tensed and pumped and his own release shot messily through Harry's thighs, onto the bush and dribbled down the tanned boy's sparsely haired legs.   
  
Both boys shuddered and gasped breathily as they coaxed their orgasms to a slow and oozing end. Draco leaned his weight on Harry, and the Gryffindor shifted his weight back against Malfoy. Holding each other up, they remained quiet but for the ragged breathing against each other's faces.  
  
Again, Draco was the first to break the silence by clearing his throat. After a beat, Harry moved out from under the blond boy's chin and bent forward to pull up his pants feeling utterly shaken and embarrassed. The movement caused Draco's wasted manhood to fall from between Harry's thighs and slap uselessly against the silken fabric of his boxers. Hastily, Draco tucked himself away as he watched Harry yank up his pants and fasten them. Strangely, the pale blond didn't even wish to break the quiet calm by giggling at how Harry's glasses had half steamed over. And Harry didn't mention the odd way that the bush had rumpled Draco's hair.   
  
Wincing at the weird way his pants now clung to him, as Harry had not wiped Draco's leavings from his leg, he turned to say something when there was a louder rustling in the bushes. Using the smell of their sex, Bane had scented them out immediately and now thrust his head through the bushes at them.   
  
With a loud shriek, Draco started to run. Harry, who had uselessly clung to his wand the whole time, lifted it and shouted. "Incarcerous!" The Gryffindor prayed that there were no more of the mythical horse beasts with Bane as the ropes spewed from his wand to tangle. Luck was on their side that night, as he was alone. Sadly, however, the binding didn't altogether disable the now twice-as-angry centaur, but merely slowed him.  
  
Harry immediately turned to catch Draco a few feet from him with his wand drawn. Speechless that the otherwise gutless wizard was actually backing him up, Harry stood dumbly surprised. So dumbly surprised was he, that Draco was forced to grab Harry's wrist to yank him to his senses so that they could flee the forest.   
  
Bane hobbled after them as quickly as he could, but the students were quickly at the edge of the forest and shouting for Hagrid. The half-giant came lumbering out of his cottage bearing his crossbow and stood at the edge of the stand of trees watching patiently until he boys fled out and ran behind him. Seeing the implement of death poised and ready, Bane bid a hasty retreat, grumbling about humans in his forest.  
  
Harry leaned against Hagrid, sex and fright-wearied and let out a long sigh. "Thank you, Hagrid," Harry breathily gasped out.  
  
"Yer welcome. See ye didna bring back nuthin'. Thas liken to make summat problem," he pointed out.  
  
"Well, it's Malfoy's fault."  
  
"Yeah? Whuddid he do ta' Bane, Harry?" the lumbering man asked.  
  
"It was not, you were the one who let his pants-" Harry reached forward and covered Malfoy's mouth.  
  
"What 'appened to yer pants Harry?" Hagrid asked innocently as he looked down at the odd way Harry's pants were stuck to his thighs.  
  
"Nothing," Harry insisted. "Plants or something."  
  
Hagrid nodded and shrugged. "Ye should get some sleep. I'll tell Dumbledore ye tried, but Bane was not cooperatin'," he said with an affirmative nod. "C'mere Fang, time fer bed. Nigh' boys."  
  
Harry waved to Hagrid while Draco just looked at the oaf with distaste and shoved his hands in his pockets. The boys didn't dare say anything as they walked back to the castle. Occasionally one would steal a glance at the other, only to look away when it was noticed. Finally inside, it was time to part ways.  
  
"Well, umm... that was err..." Harry said.  
  
"We were scared," Draco affirmed.  
  
"Right. Scared. Because all those times I met up with Voldemort it was so hard to keep from jerking off."  
  
Draco flinched at hearing Voldemort's name spoken out loud and then rolled his eyes. "Fine then, you're a fag."  
  
"You grabbed me!"  
  
"On accident!"  
  
"And jerking me off was a succession of repeated accidents?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"You are such an ass!"  
  
"You were hard!"  
  
"Do you rub every hard cock in your presence?"  
  
"Usually the only hard cock in my presence is my own, and yes, I've been known to rub one out!"  
  
"Not tonight," Harry gloated.  
  
"I'm going to bed," the blond boy announced. He didn't have an answer for his actions and in truth, neither did Harry.  
  
"Go then. Or do you want a goodnight kiss?" Harry further taunted, springing up on the balls of his feet.  
  
Draco didn't feel like playing right now. In fact, he was utterly confused and the taunt stung him a bit.  
  
Seeing the odd emotion flicker through the Slytherin's eyes Harry's stomach felt tight. "Er... I mean... I'd umm... give-"  
  
Draco's hand moved up and waved at him dismissively as he turned slowly and started to swagger away.  
  
Harry's emerald eyes watched the boy distancing himself to him.  
  
 _If he doesn't turn around, it's over. If he doesn't look at me, I blew it._  
  
Draco was at the end of the hall. He turned the corner. Harry's heart felt leaden and his eyes cast down to the floor. But peripherally, he saw the pale hand flutter up. Draco had stopped and was leaning on the corner of the stone wall.   
  
Slowly, his head turned and he looked at Harry and gave him a slow smile. Winking, he mouthed, "Gotcha," and then stepped forward and vanished down the intersecting hall. 


	3. Third Time's a Charm

By the time breakfast was over the next morning, mutant zombie vampire acromantulas had chased Harry and Draco out of the Forbidden Forest. The boys were lucky to be alive and Albus Dumbledore should have been fired. Well, the last part only really came up at the Slytherin table, but the sentiment was there. Depending on whom you asked and their personal affiliation in the Draco v. Harry division, one of the boys saved the day, taking their lives into their very hands for the other. Granted, more people were apt to believe that of Harry than Draco, but there were still some who believed in the underlying goodness of the fair-haired prat. Neither boy had actually said anything at all about their detention, simply keeping mum. In fact, had there not been a pair of seventh years in the Astronomy tower snogging who glanced out at the shouting, no one would have known at all.

From across the hall, Harry had been watching Draco's predictable routine of his own plate and silverware eating exactly two poached eggs. The Slytherin held his fork in a very practiced fashion and nearly always cut at his food in the same way. Whether this was simply the way Draco ate or whether he was simply that obsessive compulsive wasn't really clear. Harry simply buttered up his toast and tucked into the jumble of scrambled eggs before him. Both boys had been earlier called into the Headmaster's office and informed that tonight's detention was to take place in the seventh floor boy's bathroom. They were to clean it. Without magic.

Malfoy wailed. Potter shrugged. But in the end, no matter what the reaction to the bathroom cleaning detention was, the decision had been made and Dumbledore was standing by it. Clearly the Forest was going to get them killed, and while the elder wizard had given consideration to having them clean a more populated bathroom, given their extreme temperaments; he wasn't certain that the room they might be locked into together would fare well. Even without wands, the boys were capable of more than their fair share of hormone-driven altercations. While Dumbledore feared the integrity of any of his bathrooms, the seventh floor one was the most expendable.

Furtive glances were not Draco's forte. Either he looked or he didn't look. Though he felt Potter's eyes on him, he didn't look up. What had transpired between them should have left him far less coltish than he was. But at that precise moment, he was a little concerned about how much of his mind Harry was taking up, and worse yet, the way he made his stomach flip. So, he kept his eyes averted. Harry, however, kept looking at Draco now and then and found himself increasingly upset that the blond wasn't looking back. As a matter of fact, it was eating him alive.

Today the boys were almost oddly quiet and too courteous around one another. Near-death experiences will do that to people, the rest of the school reasoned. How talkative would anyone be after being attacked by a mutant zombie vamp- the rest of the school was duped into thinking their behavior was normal.

Draco wasn't intentionally mean. No, wait. Strike that. On this day, at this hour, in this particular set of circumstances involving Harry and Harry alone; Draco wasn't intentionally mean. He was simply paranoid that if he looked up at the boy, that he'd have look on his face, and that look would translate to someone, anyone would somehow see what had transpired. Then they'd think he was gay. And he wasn't gay. Potter was gay. Draco was just a pervert. Or at least that's what got him through the night.

By the end of the day, Harry was worn out from angsting that Draco wasn't looking at him. Draco's daylong rationalization and denial had also sapped his own energies. So it was that both boys, at about the same time, headed to their respective Heads of House and turned in their wands for the evening. Being closer to the bathroom in question, Harry was already inside wiping down the full-length mirror not far from the door. "Of all the bathrooms in all of Hogwar-"

"If that's your attempt at humor, stick to saving the world," Draco snapped, but then relented with a smirk and a perked brow that softened his words.

"Oh? I thought our roles were changing since I heard you saved me from the mutant zombie vampire acromantula."

Rolling his eyes, Draco headed towards the bucket of cleaning supplies and with a look of extreme distaste dug around for a pair of gloves. No way was he ruining his manicure with menial labor. "Yes, that was rather awesome of me. I rule. Too bad I don't give a flip about saving Mudbloods or I'd give you a run for your money."

"You ran like a scared girl."

"You stood there like a jackass," Draco retorted as he pulled the foul yellow rubber gloves on and reached for a sponge. "I don't even know how to start with this," he admitted.

"Being a hero? Well, first you have to have the heart of a lion-"

"And evidently you have to be utterly oblivious to the obvious," Draco snarked as he held up his gloved hands and waved at Harry with the sponge.

"Oh," he said as he blushed and turned back to the mirror. Of course, as is the nature of mirrors, it reflected his visage at Draco who snorted at his embarrassment. Crunching his face a little he retorted, "Just put some soap on the sponge and start rubbing it on things. I know how much you like to rub, so this should be easy for you to learn."

Draco's brows went up in amusement. "Ah. I see. Well, then I shall leave the pipes to you. I'd hate for you to get jealous."

That statement simply made Harry's face bloom like a bright red rose. His face was unabashedly beaconing his extraordinary sensitivity to the subject matter. And on top of that, was Draco... "Are you flirting with me?"

"Hah! "

"Oh."

"Well bathrooms aren't exactly sexy, are they?"

"I... I... suppose not?"

That was interesting. Draco headed over to the sink and started to scrub it with the sponge as Harry had instructed. "Come over here," he indicated the sink next to him. "Show me how this works, you dirty bathroom flirter."

"I wasn't the one flirting!" Harry spazzed as he made his way to the sink next to the Slytherin, stopping by the bucket to likewise pull on gloves and grab a sponge. Standing before the sink he twisted the spigot and started to scour the basin.

Draco took a moment to simply enjoy Harry's discomfort. The silence made Harry somewhat squirmy as he now felt tacitly accused of being the one to hit on Draco and that... well he hadn't, had he? With the balance of power in Draco's favor, Harry started to brush viciously at the porcelain of the sink, trying to ignore the way Draco leered. After what seemed an age of silence between them, Draco declared, "You want me."

"Pfft."

"What was that?" Draco asked with his brows up.

"Pfft."

"I heard it. But 'pfft' is mine. I forbid you to use 'pfft' against me. Get your own mouth noise!" Draco insisted.

"Loads of people say 'pfft' it's not yours! You can't... own a mouth noise!"

"I never heard you 'pfft' before I said it to you!"

"Oh, like we were best buddies who talked all the time before this," Harry pointed out.

"Just the same, get your own noise of disdain. That one's mine."

"Meh."

"Too defeatist."

"Now you're going to criticize my noises?" Harry asked, glaring at Draco incredulously as the blond boy finished wiping down the basin and moved around to the one on the other side of Harry.

"Are you ever going to finish cleaning that sink or are you stalling to spend more time with me?" Draco asked, changing the subject. He didn't actually want to fight over vocal expressions and in truth he was a little tickled that Harry was picking up some of his mannerisms.

"Oh yes, that's what I'm trying to do. Spend more time with a boy who gets possessive over blowing air through his teeth."

"I just don't like you copying me. You don't do it well enough and it cheapens my greatness," Draco said. Though he wasn't looking at Harry, he was smiling down into his menial task. Not sneering, not smirking, but smiling. Harry opened his mouth to point out that Draco seemed honestly amused with him, but thought better of it. It would just make the blond defensive and they'd end up arguing the point. Harry finally finished rinsing his own sink and moved to the one on the other side of Draco. Working in tandem, the boys were actually doing something productive together. It was a new experience for both of them.

Malfoy wasn't particularly fussed with the ensuing silence. He'd gotten in the last word and that was good enough for him. He seemed to be settling into the rhythm of the menial work in much the same way that he settled into making Potions; finding a methodical pattern in doing it, executing it, and moving on to do it again at the next basin. Finishing the sink he was on, he moved around to the other side of Harry. The movement seemed to wake the Gryffindor from his pondering on what to talk about. Silence made Harry uncomfortable. And perhaps, just perhaps, he had found himself enjoying Draco's company. But to Harry's interpretation, Draco seemed to be shutting down and becoming more defensive. "How was your summer?" Harry attempted.

"Fatherless."

"Oh. Right," Harry said as he swallowed hard and started to rinse the basin out. "I'm umm... sorry about that. I mean, not about... you know. He was a bad man. Just that you lost your father--"

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? In all fairness, he would've killed you given half a chance. After he'd gotten the- thing," Draco said, trying to evade how much he knew about it.

"He can't kill me. That's what the prophecy said. Only Vold--"

"Don't," Draco said, freezing his movements.

"What?"

"Don't tell me."

"Don't tell you what?"

"Don't tell me what the prophecy said. Don't tell me anything about any of it," Draco said as he turned and looked at Harry dubiously. "I'm not your friend, Harry; I'm the enemy, remember? If you tell me what- If you tell me these things they'll get back to Him. So don't tell me."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling the color drain completely from his face. "Dra-Malfoy, are you... did you get... umm... the Mark?"

"If I had, it would be stupid of me to admit it, wouldn't it? So I'm going to tell you I haven't. It happens to be the truth, but that doesn't mean you should pour your deepest secrets to me," he said harshly.

"Are you going to?" Harry asked as he tossed his sponge into the sink and crossed his arms and looked critically at Draco. His eyes cast over the blonde's form in concern.

Draco started rinsing his sink and let out a long huff of air. "Potter, this subject-" he cut himself off and rested his yellow gloved hands on the sink and leaned into it. "Not unless I'm forced to. I-" he broke off again and then looked up at the ceiling as if there were strength or words up there. "I blamed you initially for the whole... capture. But I came to realize that... if the Dark Lord was there the whole time, as it would seem that he was... then he could have gotten my father out of there. Or at least tried. But he didn't. He left him. It's not that I... I'm still better than you. I'm still a pureblood. But He just left my father there. My father was there for Him, and he just... abandoned his followers. I'm not signing up for that."

Harry took a moment to consider this. It made perfect sense. More sense than he'd expected from Malfoy. For now he decided to set aside the arrogant posturing of the Slytherin being better than him. That was just how Malfoy was. He was fairly certain if you took away the pure blood and the wealth, Draco would still believe himself better than everyone else. "Well, good then."

"Yes, it's great," Draco affirmed while he rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. How is your mother?"

It was Draco's turn to blanche. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Oh."

"No... it's not-I just-I don't want to talk about this, not with you," he said, and seeing the look on Harry's face he sighed and shook his head. "Not with anyone."

Finishing with his sink, Harry was starting around Draco to the next one, when he stopped in front of Draco and with a fluid movement, flung his arms around the Slytherin and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Potter, don't," Draco started to squirm as Harry held him tightly. The fight was brief and ended in Draco simply tolerating the hug, but not returning it.

Ignoring the admonition, Harry continued to hold the pale waif and then asked, "Would you really tell Voldemort what I said?"

Stiffening at the blurting out of the dark wizard's name, Draco flexed his jaw a few times before answering. "If I were brought before him, it wouldn't much matter whether I wanted to tell him or not. He can read minds. If He thought for even a moment that I might have information He could use..." he let the sentence hang. Clearly he'd be brought forward and suddenly Harry realized the inherent danger in their little affair.

"You've... umm... thought this through a bit."

"Well, someone had to," Draco admitted dismissively as he finally pulled back and looked into Harry's green eyes. Finally, in this embrace their eyes locked. No one averted the other's gaze. Neither pushed off the seriousness of the moment with banter. Without these obstacles, Harry could finally truly see the fondness Draco had for him. Impulsively, Harry closed his eyes, tilted his head in the way that Draco had shown him and pressed his lips against Draco's.

Against his better judgment and otherwise rational thinking, Draco stretched his arms around Harry and started to pluck off his yellow rubber gloves and let them flop to the floor. Smoothly parting his lips, his tongue slipped out to break the seal of Harry's yielding lips and their tongues caressed. Harry's gloves likewise dropped to the floor and their arms wrapped around each other as their kiss deepened.

This kiss was new and different. It was not borne of their goading and game playing. It was far more dangerous than even their mutual masturbation the night before. No boogieman: not Bane, nor mutant zombie vampire acromantula had anything on the sheer and very real threat of true intimacy.

Breaking the kiss, Draco pulled back and shook his head. "Potter, I can't."

"For once in your life, Malfoy, shut up," Harry said as he advanced on Draco, backing him up until he was finally pressed flush against the wall past the stand of sinks.

Draco's brows rose as he looked at the Gryffindor in shock, then amusement. Defiance flickered over his features and his mouth opened to protest. Harry slipped his hand between the two boys and latched around the blonde's stiffening length. "Potter... you don't know what you're doing." Of course, Draco meant it in a much more philosophical way than the Gryffindor took it.

"Then teach me," Harry whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against Malfoy's. He wasn't entirely sure what had come over him other than the fact of Draco's admissions and that look seemed to make the blond vulnerable in a way he'd never seen before. Harry would admit that their sexual experimentation up to this point had been addicting, but this chance at real feelings to go with it, despite all of the risks involved, wasn't something Harry was willing to part with.

Draco was going to object to Harry that this was going too far. It was complicated. Their little flirtation needed to end before it went too far. Malfoy was, in fact, just about to voice his concerns when Harry moved down to his knees in front of Draco. "What in the hell are you doing?" the Slytherin squeaked.

"I'm not about to tie your shoes, if that's what you're thinking," Harry shot back, green eyes sparkling.

Rolling his eyes, Draco responded, "Do you even know how to do that? I mean if this goes like your first kiss did, someone should give a heads up to St. Mungo's for me."

"How difficult could it be?" Harry asked.

"Why are you asking me? I'm not the fag. I've never sucked cock."

"You know what? Never mind, asshole!"

"WAIT!" Draco squalled.

Harry smirked deviously. "You want me."

"Pfft."

"Don't you mean 'meh'"

"I'm not copying you. Who would copy you? I'm the cool one."

"Well, if you don't want me to try, I'll just go back to cleaning sinks."

"WAIT!" the blond squealed again. "OK, look, you just like... don't use your teeth. Cover them with your lips, like this," he said as he wrapped his pale lips over his teeth.

"I thought you said you never did this before."

"I haven't. But I've umm... had it done to me before."

"Oh."

"Not by another boy!"

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry asked him, starting to feel really silly for this now.

Now his erection was starting to pain him and Harry was looking doubtful. Though initially Draco didn't want him to do it, now he was desperate for contact. In this realization, Draco brought his pale hand up to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're killing me, Potter."

"Alright, you know what? Never mind."

Draco stood there for a moment as Harry folded his arms indignantly in front of him and out of nowhere he let loose with a loud, "RAAR!"

"Excuse me?"

"You know what? I don't need you!" Draco insisted as he started to undo his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. Harry's eyes widened as he thought-- no-- he wouldn't. Draco wouldn't force him, would he? But that didn't seem to be the intent at all as the green eyes watched Draco pull out his perfectly pink and well-veined erection. He watched the pale hand caress its own appendage as tenderly as it had his own the night before. "What are you doing?" Harry barked.

"Finishing what you started!" Draco said as he tilted his head back against the cold and prickle of the stone wall behind him. His hands flexed and preened over his erection as he let out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction that at last his need was at last being tended to.

"Y-you can't do that!" Harry insisted. Draco simply ignored the statement. He could and he was. "Stop it!" Harry protested.

"Make me."

Forcefully, Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and pulled his hand away. Draco was quick to counter by grabbing his own manhood with his left hand, only to have Harry move that away. With a vicious smirk, Draco shifted his hips and smacked Harry's cheek with the weight of his length. "Oh, that is it!" Harry growled at him playfully. Swiftly moving in, he turned his head and caught the swaying head of Draco's prick into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Spitefully, he then grazed his teeth over the head gently, making Draco whimper helplessly as his arms flexed and strained against Harry's better-leveraged appendages.

Malfoy had never endured head by force before, although this wasn't exactly against his will. Had it been he could have easily kicked Harry and gotten away. But the simple and figurative restraint was a turn on for both the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. "Teeth!" Draco cried out.

Harry tested out how far the length could move into his mouth before his gag reflex was triggered. He could go deeper than he'd thought, and took as much of Draco into him as he could. Forcing himself to keep his eyes open, Draco looked down at the brunette's head bobbing animatedly over his manhood. It was incredible to see the Boy Who Lived on his knees in front of him manipulating his glistening cock with his mouth. It was almost too much to bear. His hips worked gently against Harry's rhythm until he felt his legs start to shiver and his abdomen flexed and burned in preparation to release. "Harry... Harry..." Draco whimpered and tugged a bit at his hair in warning.

Looking up at Malfoy, Harry tried to blink and nod and give indications that he was ready. He had become so caught up in trying to let Malfoy know it was all right for him to come into his mouth, that he missed the tell tale jerking and soon his mouth was overflowing with ejaculate. The brunette pulled back and away from the flow causing the remainder of Draco's sperm to splatter randomly over Harry's face, seeming mostly to cover the beleaguered boy's glasses. As soon as the rapture of his release had worn itself out, Draco quickly realized that his cock was dangling in the cold and looked down at Potter's ejaculate-laden face and did the only thing that he could do: giggled helplessly.

At this effrontery, Harry sputtered and spat on the floor, getting the spooge all over himself, making him cringe in a gooey mess. "Fuck you, Malfoy. Fuck you!" he sputtered as Malfoy deftly put his spent manhood away. Shaking his head, Draco moved to the boy on his knees and hoisted him up by hooking his hands under his shoulders and dragged the irritable boy over to the full length mirror so that Harry could see himself. The truth was, Draco thought it was rather adorable in a perverse way; particularly the odd way his leavings dribbled off of the boy's glasses. "You're really proud of yourself, aren't you, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded and then leaned in and whispered against his ear. "I am. I think this is possibly the sexiest I've ever seen you, Potter," he vocalized, allowing his soft lips and to a lesser degree the moist tip of his tongue to toy with the shell of the boy's ear. Then he tilted his head to the side and started to lap languidly at Harry's face, licking up the opalescent goo with his tongue and swallowing it down. At first Harry thought this was rather disgusting, but watching the reflection of Draco do it in the mirror, the hot pink tongue sliding over his visage to remove his own ejaculate from his face became intoxicating. And the feel of it was strangely luxuriant as the silken moisture passed over his features.

He was surrendering completely to it until Draco pulled off his glasses and held the frames between them as if he were sharing a rare delicacy. Both boys slithered their tongues over the spectacles, slipping over the same places, sharing the luridly salty substance between them, stealing it from each other's tongues or simply smearing it between them until the glasses were also free from the gizm. Harry took the glasses and slipped them into his pocket as Draco retraced the flat of his tongue languidly over Harry's features and finally down to his lips. Pausing there, their tongues shared another deep embrace as the Slytherin's pale hand slipped down over the tautness in Harry's pants.

Angling their bodies to the side so that they could watch themselves in the mirror, Draco slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Harry. His grey eyes peered up at him as he shook out his pale mane and smiled for a moment before tucking into dealing with Harry's trousers.

"Malfoy, wait, what about the toilets."

"Sod 'em"

"We already blew off one of our detentions," Harry pointed out.

Leaning back, Draco reached down to his ankle and pulled his trouser leg up and fished his wand out of his sock. "Sorcerer's Apprentice" style, he waved his wand to the discarded cleaning products and set them to working on the toilets and mopping the floor.

"That is so unfair. Snape let you keep your wand?"

"No, Snape has Goyle's wand. I let me keep my wand," Draco admitted.

"You're terrible."

"Incorrigible," Draco said as he slipped Harry's peach length from his white underpants. "Remind me to get you some boxers, Potter, these are terrible. No one wears white underpants like this past the age of 10."

Harry was about to protest that he didn't exactly have the necessity for an elite undergarment wardrobe when Draco slipped his length into his mouth and sucked him intensely. Draco had never given a blowjob before, but he'd received them. He knew about swirling the tongue about and pulling as deeply as he could. He even remembered to encircle the base of Harry's erection with his thumb and forefinger and he twisted it gently.

The room was alive with the sounds of cleaning and scrubbing, but just above the din was the quiet slurping sounds of Draco Malfoy sucking assertively at Harry Potter's erection. His grey eyes kept flicking over to the sight of it in the mirror. His own mouth hollowed out as he drew back and puffed as he slid in. Harry was hunched over him, pressing his hands into the blond boy's shoulders as his hips started to move generously with the rhythm. It was hard to keep from gagging and sputtering and now and then he'd have to break by pulling himself out of Harry's reach and swirl his tongue over the head.

Harry marveled at the different textures his tongue versus the roof of his mouth and then his cheeks and teeth added to the mix. The silken warmth of the boy's cavity thrilled him, drove the Gryffindor mad with pleasured desire and the sight of the blond in such a submissive position made his own body start to quake. Less aware of his own body's habits, Harry didn't give ample warning to Draco about his release. But Draco was a bit more attuned to sex in general and properly interpreted the signs. Though he ended up drooling a bit of the release out of the corners of his mouth, he quickly sucked it back in and smiled up at Harry briefly before the Gryffindor moved down to his knees in front of him.

Again they shared a rather lusty and inspired kiss, this time sharing their tastes with one another as they wrapped their arms tightly around the other. It took a while for them to notice that the room had gone silent. The brooms and mops and sponges were back in place and the room no longer smelled of sex but of disinfectant and candle wax. There was quiet but for the smacking kisses that slowed and tapered off from the afterglow snogging.

"Malfoy?"

"I've had my dick in your mouth, you may call me Draco."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Why do we keep doing this?" Harry asked.

"Because you're gay."

"And you are?"

"Horny," Draco answered.

"Oh."

Draco kissed Harry's lips gently one more time and then his forehead as he stood and then bent down to put his wand into his sock.

"I don't think I'm really gay, Draco."

"Then next time, don't suck my cock?"

"Well if you suck my cock and you're not gay...."

"I don't think you're a pervert, Potter. I've been to all of the meetings and you're never there," Draco said.

"You know, you've had my dick in your mouth, you can call me Harry."

"I don't think you're a pervert, HARRY. I've been to all of the meetings and you're never there."

Harry rolled his eyes and Draco sighed. "So what does this all mean?" Harry asked.

"It means I'm tired, the detention's over, and I'm going to bed."

"Do you like me, Draco?"

Draco had started to walk towards the door, but stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and looked at the ceiling. "I suppose I might," he said, and then turned his head to look at him over his shoulder and winked at him. Then he turned back to the door and swung it open.

"Don't you want to know if I like you?" Harry called out.

Turning around again to lean lazily in the doorway, Malfoy crooned, "You're mine and you know it. Goodnight." And with that he let the door close, only barely hearing Harry's response.

"Pfft."


	4. Closer

Of all of the things that Harry Potter had seen in his life, no vision was quite so simultaneously beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Draco Malfoy was completely naked and sprawled out over Harry's robe on the floor. His skin was glistening from a mixture of sweat and the slick emissions of the Oleaginous Ranunculus; also known as Buttery Buttercups. In spite of the fact that the boys hadn't annihilated the bathroom in their previous detention, Dumbledore still wasn't willing to risk more precious parts of the castle to the boy's care. For this detention, Professor Snape had assigned them to cull the sickly sweet-smelling fluid from the lurid, yellow blooms reasoning that though it was a messy process, nothing would explode.

Draco had drawn his knees up to his body, his long spindly legs folded and then flattened apart, exposing the perfection of his erection, the oblong stretch of his scrotum, and the shamefully alluring pulsing star fruit of his anus. Both of Draco's hands had been teasing at his own length as the Slytherin peered up at Harry's speechless form from under the matted locks of his flaxen hair. Slowly he moved one hand down his pale, agile form. His middle finger frustrated the sparse white hairs around his opening as he teased the well-lubricated hole. Then gently he slipped the finger in.

He had never let anyone penetrate him before. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten talked into this other than that Harry had flatly refused to submit. Citing a tormented childhood including threats of buggery from his cousin, Draco relented, sating himself that he would be Harry's first. No matter what the sacrifice, the Slytherin would have the indelible impact on Harry as the first boy he'd ever fucked.

Watching in fascination, Harry could barely breathe as the long, manicured fingers gracefully stroked in and stretched the bright pink hole. The whole of Draco's body worked with this motion, settling in against the wrinkling robe beneath him, dragging it here and there as it caught on his skin; tacky with the buttery substance they'd managed to get all over each other. This was the first time he'd seen Malfoy completely undone. He was so very beautiful there between a stand of student desks. Shadows played over his features as the candles flickered and flared in their irregular dispersal of light. Just under the skin Draco's muscles rippled as his puffed chafed lips parted and gasped.

Harry reached out a shaking hand just to touch the creamy white of his thigh. His fingers looked so crude next to Draco's ethereal skin. Though Malfoy's legs were still knobby and spindly from a post-pubescent growth spurt, Harry was certain he'd never seen anything so lithe and graceful in his life.

Looking down, Draco saw that Harry was still in his shirt and boxers. "Potter, I'm naked and putting my fingers into my ass. I think you can lose the tie," he taunted as he flexed another finger inside of himself. Draco, true to his proclamation that he was a dissolute pervert, was experimental enough to have probed himself like this before and knew just where that heavenly bundle of nerves within him lay.

Harry nervously pulled at his tie and started to unbutton his white broadcloth shirt. He felt stumpy and ill formed next to Draco's long and lean structure. But Harry's musculature was actually more filled out than Draco's and his skin was lightly bronzed from his having to work in the yard at the Dursley's. Draco had never noticed boys before. For reasons beyond his ability to explain let alone comprehend, watching the shirt slide off of Harry's supple arms and then watching the progression of his thumbs hooking into the elastic of his white cotton briefs made Draco groan as his cock lurched in his hand.

Staring at the way the elastic gapped away from his concave stomach revealing the squashed peach shaft of his length, Harry screwed up his courage and finally pulled the underwear down over his hips and kicked out of them. His stiff manhood bent down with the fabric and slapped back up against his abdomen, before it bobbed and settled, pointing at Draco. The blond didn't miss a beat of this. He stared for a moment at the head of Harry's erection, then up to the nest of curls at its base and then up to the blushing face of Harry Potter.

"Oh god..." Draco groaned as his back arched and he probed his three fingers deep into himself and languidly stroked at his prostate, feeling his body shudder at the pleasure of it. "Come on, Harry... do it... fuck me."

Harry shakily removed his glasses. The words made him quiver. No one had ever said something so smutty to him. It was so wrong. So exciting. Draco, of course, didn't think much of his utterances, but it set Harry's abdomen aflame with lust and he stretched himself over the other boy. Draco moved his hand from his erection and slid it languidly up and down the Gryffindor's back.

Leaning his weight on one arm, Harry reached down to his cock and stabbed awkwardly between the other boy's legs until Draco leered at him and then reached down to line Harry up against his strict band of muscles. For the first time, Harry really saw Draco blush and he bit his lip and turned his head away. Insistently, Harry followed the movement of the Draco's countenance with his own and pressed small kisses to Draco's lips as he worked up to courage to finally push into him.

"Wait!" Draco gasped. His face was now flushed red and the tendons on his neck were strained.

"Did I hurt-"

"No... I should umm... turn over," Draco stated as he turned his face away from Harry's kisses.

"I want to face you, I want to watch-"

"It's..."

"I don't want you to turn over," Harry whispered against Draco's cheek. "I want to do this... I want to-"

"I-"

Harry cut Draco's protest off with the slow progress of pushing his length into him. Draco closed his eyes and twisted his head the other way as his brows furrowed in an effort to relax his dissenting interior muscles.

"Am I hurting you?" Harry asked again and Draco shook his head but wouldn't look Harry in the eye. "Please look at me, Draco. Look at me," he whispered to him. Again Draco shook his head. "I want to make love to you, Draco. I want you to look at me, please," this time Harry whined his insistence and stayed still, lodged deeply inside.

"Do it now, Harry," he whispered.

"No, I'm stopping," Harry said, feeling as if all of the air had been sucked from his lungs. He started to back out when he felt hands on his biceps. Draco looked up at him and slowly wriggled his body back down, coaxing Harry's member into him as he finally met his eyes.

Draco's back arched and Harry leaned his weight up. Their eyes locked, Draco extended one hand up to tangle with the hand on the arm the Gryffindor was leaning on. His other hand moved down to stroke himself as they started to work their rhythm together. It didn't last long; Harry was a virgin. This was a small mercy as the twinges of pain from being stretched by the untried Gryffindor were causing Draco more pain than he'd thought it would.

Both of their faces started to flush and a fresh patina of sweat broke out over the glossy secretions they were coated in. Their bodies squirmed and audibly slurped as they attempted to keep purchase. Before long, Draco watched Harry's expression contort in an absolvent ecstasy. He watched Harry's eyelids flutter as he tried to keep them open as he vocalized Draco's name in rasping breath as he came.

Never had his name looked so beautiful, so perfect than when they purred off of the lips of the Boy Who Lived. The 'r' rolled off of those flawless lips and his name ended with the encircling 'o' shape. Inside of Draco felt tight and warm and with a few more enunciated strokes from Harry's hand, their already slick chests were rewetted with Draco's release.

Slowing the tempo down, Harry kept thrusting until his waning manhood became too sensitive to persist. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to stay bodily linked to Draco, watching his face in its rapture as he whispered Harry's name. Their palms kissed and their fingers squeezed tightly. Harry kissed Draco deeply, although rather sloppily in his exhausted afterglow, and then crumpled against Draco's body.

Removing his hand from his spent erection, Draco wrapped his arm around Harry to steady him on top of him as their slick bodies heaved and glistened. Harry rested his head under Draco's chin and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his neck. "I really like you a lot," Harry sighed.

"I'd hope so."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'd hope that someone who'd lodged their most intimate appendage into my arse-"

"Oh my God, shut up!"

"Buggered me senseless-"

"Hush!" Harry squealed as he blushed furiously.

"Stretched out my boy pussy-"

"You're horrible, stop it!"

"Gave me quite the good seeing to, I'm surprised if I can walk-"

Finally Harry had to clamp his hand over Draco's mouth. Lewdly, the Slytherin licked his hand but Harry resisted the urge to recoil and kept it there until Draco's shoulders stopped shaking in his mirth.

"I was being nice, and truthful!" Harry exclaimed.

Draco rolled his eyes and teasingly bit at the fingers on the clamping hand until it was removed. "Alright, alright, you like me," he admitted with a sigh. "A lot."

Harry pulled himself up a little so that he could stare expectantly into Draco's eyes.

"May I help you?" Draco asked.

After Harry huffed at him and gave him a few encouraging nods. Malfoy stared impassively. Harry broke down and asked, "Do you like me?"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "No, I let everyone put their cock up my arse. It's the new handshake."

Wrinkling his nose and restraining a titter at the caustic remark, Harry prodded on with, "How much do you like me?"

"Would you like that in metric or imperial?"

"You know what I mean!" Harry exclaimed as he reached over to Draco's nipple and gave it an abrupt wringing that caused Draco to squeal.

"I can't answer that! What kind of question is that? What are the terms in which I measure how much I like a person? Honestly Potter-"

"HARRY!"

"Right. Cock up my bum means you're Harry," Draco quipped. "I don't know. A lot. I let you anally violate me, now you want me to say something that tops that?"

"I-- ok. Point," Harry admitted. "When can I see you again?"

"Well, I don't know, I have detentions all week..." Draco said wryly. He shifted his hips and Harry's flaccid manhood slipped out of him, leaving Draco feeling suddenly physically empty and forlorn. He also felt the distasteful backwash of oily tepid seed descend out of him and pool onto Harry's robe.

"Give me a break, I just lost my virginity!" Harry fussed as if you couldn't ask rational questions after sex.

"And I took it! Muhahaha!"

"Right," Harry said and then rolled his eyes. Feeling around for his trousers, he grabbed the waistband and pulled his wand out of the pocket. Their lustrous skin made a strange hissing-popping noise as their lean frames parted, skin sticking to skin, making their separation faintly painful. Then, "Scourgify" and the bubbles coated over them and with another flick of the wand, the boys were at least mostly clean. "So tomorrow then."

"Yes. Prepare for entry."

"What?" Harry asked. "You're the bottom!"

"What? When was I elected bottom?"

"I just... you... in!"

"So?"

"So that means you-"

"Oh, pardon me, Pot- Harry, if I'm not so in on the way homosexuals behave. Had I known I was with such an expert on the topic-"

"I'm not an expert, I just heard that-"

"I don't care what you heard. I'm fucking you," Draco sniffed.

Harry's eyes went wide and distressed. "But-"

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish?" he tried although this time he looked less certain of his phrasing.

Draco rolled over and winced at the tenderness of his expanded sphincter as he started to grab for his boxers. Seeing the extreme fear in Harry's eyes regarding the pain, Draco smirked to himself and then wailed. "Oh Merlin. The pain! I'm dying! I'll never walk again!" His arms flailed about as if he were in great pain as his boxers waved uselessly gripped tightly in his floundering hand.

Rocking back on his heels, Harry pulled his pants on and shook his head. "You're not funny. I told you I'm hung up on it. I just... I don't know. I mean Dudley and his gang used to call me a faggot and threaten to bugger me. I told you about that. It's just... "

"They were right. You are a faggot and you're going to be buggered," Draco said matter-of-factly as he pulled on and buckled his trousers. Standing carefully, he sauntered up to the desk holding the remaining plants and finished the last couple of phials. Draco frowned at the stems of the violated buttercups that were inexorably crushed in their struggle to keep possession of the liquid he was harvesting. He pulled his wand to scourgify the desk, his pants, his shirt, parts of the ceiling and mysteriously, a cabinet on the other side of the room when everything else seemed unscathed.

Though this gave time for Harry to think and also pull his shirt and glasses back on. He was still unimpressed by Draco's cavalier attitude towards his sexual hesitation. Bending over, he picked up the snagged and soiled ruins of his robe. "Good thing I have more," he said with a frown as he curled it up and tucked it under his arm. "Draco-"

Sighing, Draco turned to him and gave him a serious look. "I'm not going to rape you. Just... plan on it. I really want to-- " his face twisted up with effort. Intimacy again. But he knew that honesty and the promise of intimacy was the only way to really sell it. He closed his eyes, "I can't believe I'm about to say this, it is so trite and corny and awful. I want to be inside of you. And dash your stupid cousin and his Muggle lackeys. They don't own you or what you do unless you're just going to let them. Then again, I'm probably just saying this because I'm a horny pervert."

"Who's not gay at all."

"Of course not. You're the queer." Draco opened his eyes again so he could leer at Harry.

Harry wrinkled his nose at him as he ambled to the blond and wrapped his arms around his neck. Draco wrapped his own sinuous arms around Harry's waist and pulled him to him. "I'll think about it," Harry caved.

Jutting his hips forward to crash against Harry's. "You'll do it, you're my bitch."

The Gryffindor's brows rose at him. "Am I?"

"Mine. Yes."

Harry couldn't quite contain his smile at Draco and leaned in to share another deep kiss with him when they heard Snape removing the locking charm at the door. Quickly, they parted their embrace and stood at opposite ends of the table. Draco's sneer reappeared along with Harry's irritated scowl.

Snape moved over to the desk and peered at the samples and nodded his approval. "Ten points from Gryffindor as I'm sure Malfoy did all of the work," Snape drawled.

Draco stuck out his tongue at Harry who rolled his eyes in reply.

"You're dismissed," Snape said.

The boy's both grabbed their bags and bustled out the door, crowding it as they tried to open it, each boy fighting for the handle. Though there was a scuffle, it didn't seem to get too out of hand. If Snape hadn't known better, he might've thought he saw Potter grab Malfoy's bum on the way out. The pallid man's brows rose at the notion, but soon the door was slammed shut, insults were vociferated but muffled through the heavy wood door, then footsteps and then-- quiet.


	5. Galaxy

_But I keep on a comin' here and standing in this state_  
 _And I'm never really sure if you'll take what I'm saying the right way_  
 _But I'm not appalled or afraid verbal pocket play_  
 _Is as discreet as I can muster up to be_  
 _Because the Cadillac that's sittin' in the back_  
 _It isn't me_  
 _Oh, no, no, no it isn't me_  
 _I'm more at home in my galaxie_  
\-- Blind Melon

It was dreadfully difficult for Draco not to cackle when Snape informed him that his next detention with Harry was going to be in the nefarious snogging depot of Hogwarts; the Astronomy Tower. It was either _divine providence, utter madness,_ or someone was _really, truly naive_ about what was going on between the boys. Either way, Draco didn't care. Out on the extended balcony looking at the stars gave a perfect romantic backdrop for the Slytherin to claim Harry's ass. Literally. And so he went on to class Monday morning, trying desperately not to skip.

It had been rather unfortunate in some ways that their last encounter had been on Friday night. While they had assumed that their detentions would continue on Saturday and Sunday nights alone and together, this was not the case. Instead they were stuck plowing the greenhouse with several other students under the heat and filtered light of the hothouse windows. Seeing that these detentions were going to involve labor, and the fact that the sunlight and heat gave no opportunity to violate Potter, Draco feigned heat stroke and spent the majority of the weekend lolling about in the infirmary pretending to be dehydrated and weak.

Harry, on the other hand, spent most of the weekend clenching and unclenching his brown eye. Prior to the Slytherin's departure whenever Draco glanced at Harry, the Gryffindor involuntarily constricted his sphincter. This was made worse when, just before Draco passed out in the green house, the blond pulled his hands up in front of his face and made a circle by curling his fingers to his thumb and poked his index finger through it while straining his visage as if in pain. Harry paled, and Draco leered. In the blink of an eye after his rude gesture, Draco was down in the dirt in an alleged faint.

Of course, Harry hadn't seen him since that little event and by Monday morning, he was nearly desperate to lay eyes on the boy, if only to make the image of his lewd gesture go away. He wasn't sure how he felt about the assignment of cleaning out the telescopes that night. Although if he were going to allow Draco to- to- do that... well, perhaps the Astronomy Tower was a good place. Still, he shivered a bit at the thought and felt himself clench again. As McGonagall emphasized "no magic" to Harry as he spoke to his own Head of House about the current detention he could almost hear Malfoy grumbling, "No magic my ASS." The thought made Harry smirk as he headed to class.

**

"If you're not going to umm... penetrate me... I don't understand why you need them off," Harry said, leaning against the half wall of the outdoor portion of the Astronomy Tower. His shirt and tie were still on but his trousers were off. Draco knelt behind Harry, pale hands pressed against the warm flesh of Harry's ass, covered by an annoying pair of briefs that he didn't seem to be able to be able to convince Harry to remove.

"Look, I'm just going to... I'll touch you, but I won't put anything in you, all right? Not until you ask," he pleaded. He was so close, so very close. His prick burbled against his thigh, begging for more intimate contact. Draco was on a mission. He was going to bugger Harry Potter. No matter what it took.

"I don't know. Can't you just leave them on?"

"Harry, I'm not going to fuck you until you ask me to. If and when you ask, then I will do it. But not before."

"Well when I'm ready for you to... umm," he gestured over the wall as if Draco could see it. "Then we can take them off!"

Draco closed his eyes and took in a long and irritated breath and pulled his lips over his teeth and pressed them together as he forced himself to count to ten. "Just. Take. Them. Off. I'm. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You."

"No."

Draco gave heavy consideration to pitching the boy who lived off of the edge of the tower. It wouldn't be hard to do, and he might even be a new Death Eater hero... but no. There was no better trophy for his sexual prize closet than Dumbledore's Golden Boy. And maybe, just maybe-- No. No this was about trophies and possession and simple bastardly territorial pissings. He did NOT have FEELINGS for Harry Potter. Never. "May I put my hands under your pants, then?" he asked.

Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot considering it and then drew in a long and shaky breath and nodded before saying, "OK, but don't-"

"Harry."

"I know just... it's going to hurt."

"How do you know?"

"Because I... tried... with my finger."

Draco had to bite his lip not to snicker at the idea of Harry clumsily jabbing his finger into his own rectum. "Well, look, I won't lie to you. It will be uncomfortable, but I know how to make it feel better, there's a-"

"I know about the prostate Malfoy, I'm not completely ignorant," Harry snapped.

Again he counted to ten. This would be worth it, he reminded himself. It had damned well better be. Slowly he pushed his fingers up under the white fabric and his digits tenderly kneaded at the curve and weight of Harry's flexing cheeks. Harry took his glasses off and set them on the ledge next to him. He then closed his eyes and rested his face on the stack of his hands in front of him. "That feels... nice," he whispered quietly to Draco.

In response, Draco started to pull at Harry's pants, sliding them down off of the boy's hips. This time Harry didn't object, but allowed the elastic to pull at his skin and his prick until it cleared his hips and fell uselessly down to his ankles. Leaning in, Draco started to kiss and trace patterns on Harry's cheeks with his tongue as his fingers continued to grope at him. The sensation of the balmy muscle over his flesh followed by the cool of the air made Harry tremble in pleasure and his breath started to catch erratically.

At first he wasn't quite conscious of what was going on. He could feel Draco's face against the skin of his bum and the press of his lips and the gentle circular massage of the blond boy's hands kneading him. But all at once he became very conscious of the fact that his cheeks were being pulled apart as the hands moved in their circular pattern. Feeling his sphincter exposed to the air, he was about to object when he felt Draco's tongue swipe in over it. At that, Harry cried out in a quivering bliss.

The Gryffindor was about to turn around and ask Draco what he was doing when he felt the lush heat slide over his hole again and the words caught out in a vocalized "eck!" It occurred to Draco to say something, but feeling the boy starting to project his ass towards him convinced him that words would only ruin the moment. So instead he draped his lips around the opening and twirled the tip of his tongue over the waxy ribbing of Harry's band of muscles.

To Harry it seemed vulgar and disrespectful to allow Malfoy to continue doing this. It wasn't as if he'd asked him to however, and the feeling of it was... it was so silky and yielding and nothing at all akin to what he'd experienced with his own untrained fingers pressing into himself. This was delicate and it made him break out in a mild sweat as he gasped for more air. Pressing his forehead hard against his flattened hands, he felt the reflected heat of his breath blowing on his face as his nerves twitched over his body. Just when he thought that the sensations couldn't become any more intense, Malfoy's hand move from groping his buttocks around his hip to grip his manhood firmly and he began to stroke.

At this, all shame drained from Harry's consciousness. There was only the gratification of feeling Malfoy's sinful tongue and the immense need to rut into his hand. The Slytherin pressed the flat of his tongue against the clutching opening. Even as Harry worked his legs further apart, Draco remained steadfast in not probing his tongue into the boy until the Gryffindor finally sobbed out, "More!"

Feeling the boy's ass pushed fiercely into his face and at the resonance of that gloriously releasing four-letter word cried out with such anguish, Draco dexterously pointed his tongue and let it infiltrate the Gryffindor. Allowing himself a moment to silently gloat, his heart fluttered at the thrill of it. He was inside.

Draco allowed his tongue to explore the pliant walls of Harry's cavity as his lips kneaded and sucked around the opening, eliciting further groans from the teen. Draco had never done any such thing as this before. But he wanted Harry and he was fairly certain this would get to the Golden Boy. His gambit proved correct as he noted Harry's body flexing wantonly against his mouth and his thrumming fingers. He moaned out like a cooing whore, which gave Draco a sensation of raw power over the boy. "Oh God, Malfoy... oh my good, good GOD, MORE!" he sobbed as the thrill of sensation overwhelmed his nerves.

Reaching down for the small bottle of lubricant he'd boldly brought with him, he took his hand from Harry's member to slick up both hands. When his hand returned to Harry's erection, the sensation was so fragile as his fingers contracted around the underside of the head and pulled gently at the foreskin, toying with it. Withdrawing his tongue from inside of Harry, he circled it around the opening as he worked his finger in with a corkscrew motion. The strict walls of his sphincter rippled in complaint to the invasion and Harry's face flushed as he whimpered inaudibly.

Draco slipped his tongue around the ridges of Harry's stretching aperture, coaxing the trembling muscles to loosen. He stopped when he reached the second knuckle and just caressed the tanned boy's erection as his tongue flicked delicately over the stinging skin. Giving Harry time to adjust, he was slightly surprised when he felt the brave Gryffindor pushing back to draw Draco's digits deeper. Sinking his finger in all the way to the base, he gradually withdrew and pressed in again. The Slytherin's tongue all but stilled as he started to finger fuck the boy. He allowed Harry to control the movements and depth as Malfoy's middle finger teased the stretched skin as he sat back to relieve his overworked jaw.

There was another hesitation and awkward puffing of breath as Draco slowly introduced the second finger into the boy's opening. Again he permitted the tanned teen to control the speed in which the bulk was accepted and then the rhythm which he was being fucked by. Draco almost forgot to stretch his fingers out to feel for the boy's bundle of inner nerves. Soon enough he found the wisp of the boy's prostate and he nudged at it. "DRACO!" Harry shouted out into the inky night. The oppressive inner walls relaxed their systematic pulsing to reject the intrusion allowing the pale fingers more leeway to feel the Gryffindor out. The pale teen's thumb simply caressed the top of Harry's band of tight muscles as his pinky thrilled the bottom.

Now Harry was, indeed, starting to fuck Draco's fingers deeply and his hips were shifting to extend the pleasure of the long fingers against his inner nerves. At this point, Draco introduced his third finger and started to make way for his grand entrance.

Drawing himself up to stand behind Harry, he kept the heft of his erection low and between the boy's ass cheeks. Harry stood a bit more, and Draco felt the constriction on his fingers as the boy tensed again. "It's not going to be any worse than this, Harry," he whispered into the Gryffindor's ears with as much reassurance in his voice as he could muster. "I'll be careful." The words sounded so strange whispered against Harry's ear from Draco's drawl; that he didn't want to cause Potter any pain. He wanted this to be... he wanted Harry to enjoy it. He pressed his pastel lips against the spot just behind Harry's ear and whispered, "Take off your shirt."

Harry's breath was ragged through nervous excitement. "Draco... I'm still not..."

Nuzzling from behind against Harry's ear, his hot breath warmed and thrilled Harry's skin, "If you really don't want to, I'll stop. We can do something else." Something deep within Draco coiled itself in knots over his speech. It wasn't just that his aching erection was suddenly jittery that it wouldn't get the sort of satisfaction it was seeking. It was that Draco Malfoy would stop if Harry asked him to. This was an unheard of concession and it shocked even the Slytherin to have said it.

Harry's trembling fingers worked at the pearl buttons of his shirt nervously and quickly he shrugged it off and tossed it aside. Something inside of the Gryffindor melted at the idea that the Slytherin would stop at his least protest. Unsure of how to proceed, the blond withdrew his fingers from the uncertain boy. To Harry, the once familiar constellations that he often watched from this vantage point were simply white blurs on a mysteriously dark palette. He blinked slowly at the distinctively confused but familiar imagery and took in a deep breath to answer Malfoy. "I want you to do it."

Leaning in, Draco kissed the exposed crook of Harry's neck and down his shoulder. Trailing his tongue back up the length of his shoulder and back up to just behind his ear, Draco whispered, "Are you positive Harry? I don't want you to regret this."

Somewhere deep down Harry knew if he didn't do this now that he'd never do it. The anticipation and build up was too much. Slowly he felt a peace starting to warm his trembling body and he turned his head to look at Draco, "I want to."

The precome had started to dribble down his already glistening length and pooled in a clear spot of moisture on Harry's plush cheek. Taking his erection in his hand, he slowly slipped it up and down against Harry's tender fissure before centering it slowly on point. Draco was forced to stop stroking Harry's length as he moved both hands to the tanned hips of the Gryffindor. Leaning forward to kiss the back of Harry's neck, he pressured the opening to give way to his invading length.

The boy who lived whimpered and his face felt hot and screwed up against the pressure. Draco trailed more kisses against Harry's perspiring skin as he waited to feel the undulating inner muscles relax again. Again he felt Harry pushing back against him before the Slytherin was going to move. Draco's arms slipped up to warp around Harry's chest as he finally felt his skin melt into the other boy's body and he just held him for a moment as he rested his chin on the Gryffindor's shoulder. Something inside of Draco was constricting again, making him feel bewildered and lightheaded, and he pressed his temple against Harry's head as if it might clear the confusion.

Declining back against the pale boy, Harry brought his hands up to place them on top of Draco's. His body was slowly adjusting to Draco's length, but just being there under the stars, being held so tightly, without speech or movement, made Harry feel immeasurably happy. Bringing one hand up to his face, Harry kissed the knuckles in turn and smiled at Draco's quiet and almost helpless whimper.

Carefully, Draco drew back his hips and then pressed himself into Harry again. He left one arm around the rival Seeker's chest as the other moved back down to stroke him, trying to ease the pain of his movements by thrumming his fingers fluidly over Harry's erection. Harry's body responded, starting to move in tandem with Draco's thrusts until they were enjoying a regular rhythm. Harry hooked his arms over the wall of the castle to leverage himself against Draco. He found a way of shifting his hips to get the maximum pleasure from each push, rubbing the head of his lover's prick against his inner nerves which made him again call out into the night as Draco grunted.

It only took slightly longer than when Harry took Draco for them to finally reach climax, Harry began first, his cock jerking as his body blotched over with a blush. His face contorted in a confused pleasure as he called out Draco's name. The Slytherin felt the warm ooze of Harry's leavings warming his fingers. With a last few rather enunciated and forceful thrusts that shoved Harry uncomfortably against the half wall, Draco finally released into the boy. Filling the cavity, Draco's head lolled against Harry's shoulder and his face pressed into the crook of the Gryffindor's neck. With his pale arm clutched tightly around Harry, Draco slowed his movements until he felt his cock completely sated. Then he simply clung to Harry who was folded against the stones as both boys panted to regain their breath.

After regaining himself enough to speak, Harry gasped out, "Draco... I lo-"

In a panic, Draco's hand slapped up over Harry's mouth to cut off his words. "Don't."

Knocking away the hand, Harry fussed, "Don't what?"

"Don't say that. I'm... not ready to hear it."

"What do you think I'm going to say?" Harry questioned, suddenly feeling offended and hurt.

"You know what you were going to say, Potter."

"HARRY. You can at least use my first name while you're still up my ass, you know. And you don't know what I was going to say..."

"I know what you were going to say. I just made love to you and you were a virgin and-"

"Oh my god! Could you be ANY more of a PRICK?" Harry growled as he elbowed Malfoy in the ribs to shove him off of him as he reached down for his clothing.

"Look, it's not like I don't have any feelings for you, I'm just not ready-" Draco said as he rubbed at his sore ribs and leaned down to pull up his pants. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out a few tissues, which he offered to Harry.

"I'm not ready either!" Harry squealed as he snatched the offered napkins from Draco and started to clear away the ejaculate from his bum and the bits dribbling down between his thighs.

"Then why were you-" Draco asked as he took another tissue from his pocket to wipe himself down before he started to pull on his boxers.

"I was GOING to tell you that I really loved being with you like this and I'd like to get to know you better," Harry insisted as he finished with his sore ass and began to tend to the fluids still on his manhood.

"Oh sure. I believe you. You stalled all this time to think that up, didn't you?" Draco squalled, suddenly embarrassed that he'd gotten such an erroneous impression.

"What?" Harry queried incredulously as he tossed the tissues down and started to pull on his briefs and trousers. "I was NOT making that up! That's what I was going to say. Maybe YOU are in love with ME and you were just HOPING I would say that!"

"Oh right, like after ONE WEEK and ONE SHAG I'm IN LOVE," Draco persisted, holding up his index finger to punctuate the brevity of one week and a singular shag to pointlessly plead his case that they hadn't been together for very long.

"TWO shags, or doesn't it count when YOU'RE THE ONE BEING SHAGGED?" Harry snapped holding up two fingers to drive home his own point that they had in fact, made love twice.

Waving his hand dismissively before he finished with his trousers and pulled on his shirt he said, "WHATEVER!" Draco then followed up with another shout of, "I REALLY LOVE BEING WITH YOU, TOO AND I'D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW YOU BETTER!"

"THEN WE'RE IN AGREEMENT! WHY ARE WE SHOUTING?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"THEN WE SHOULD STOP!" Harry reasoned.

"WE SHOULD!"

"WHY AREN'T WE?"

"YOU FIRST!" Draco roared.

"You are such an ass!" Harry retorted as he rolled his eyes.

"But I'm an ass who got the LAST SHOUT in," Draco countered huffily.

It was fortunate that Harry had finished with his garments by the time Sinistra burst in to find out what all of the commotion was about. Before she got out to them, Draco had vanished the tissues. Glaring around at the telescopes, the incensed teacher noted that none of the telescopes had been cleaned.

"Have you boys been out here fighting this whole time?" Sinistra asked as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Umm," Harry said and blushed deeply.

"Potter was implying that a study of Astronomy was worthless and I was simply setting him to rights," Draco drawled casually.

Sinistra fumed as she glared at Harry. "Where are your glasses?" she questioned after searching his blushing face for a moment. At the question, Harry's hands flew to his face and he squeaked before rushing off to the wall to grab his glasses. "I'll be letting Dumbledore know that neither of you got anything done," she hissed at them both. "As for you, Potter, I expect 2 feet on the importance of Astronomy in your life and practical applications of it."

Draco couldn't help but snicker at Harry's punishment and the rival Seeker's attempts to look at Draco maliciously even though he was clearly amused with the situation. "And I expect you to assist him with this assignment, Malfoy. This should be easy for you as you were so kind to explain the value of the study in the first place."

"But- I-"

"No buts, Malfoy. Now both of you get out of here. And perhaps another week's worth of detention will teach you both to work together instead of against one another!" she bellowed after the boys as they scrambled out of the room.

Giggling, they ran and poked at one another until they reached the end of the hall where they had to part. Draco reached out and grabbed Harry by his hips and pulled him to him. "So you want to know me, do you?"

"I do."

"I'm not sure there's much beyond the sex. Although... I'm damn good at the sex. A sex god, I'd say," Malfoy bragged.

"Then next time... no sex," Harry said as he leaned in and delved his tongue deeply into Draco's mouth, claiming him passionately enough to leave the Slytherin a bit breathless when Harry pulled back. When Draco looked back on this parting of ways, all he really remembered was the kiss and then those sparkling green eyes. Finding himself alone in the hall, hearing only the echoes of Harry's footfalls and the silent tenor of his laughter, Draco turned to head down to the dungeons.


	6. One Step Back

 

The problem was that Draco was right. Harry HAD been about to tell the Slytherin that he was in love with him. And though he'd suppressed the feelings while he was with Draco and tried desperately to sleep them off, the next morning nothing had changed. His stomach felt as if it were tied in knots and pained him every time he thought of telling the blond his feelings. One week. It did sound short and improbable. And they'd made love once... no it was twice. Not to mention all of the fooling around before that. Some people believed in love at first sight, was it so hard to believe that love could come after a week? Evidently for the boy he was in love with it was.

If Draco was at all plagued with any of these self-doubts, he wasn't showing it. He sat nonchalantly across from Dumbledore's desk next to Harry. He slouched arrogantly in the chair, one ankle draped casually over his knee with a pale hand resting on the black of his trouser leg. The one time he visibly acknowledged Harry in the office Draco had given his usual derisive sneer and then rolled his eyes to look back to the headmaster who was trying in vain to get the boys to talk about what they were actually doing in the tower.

"It is simply that given the length of time you were outside and how little was done, I am curious as to what you two were speaking about for an hour and a half that resulted in the shouting match. By all accounts you were rather quiet up until then," Dumbledore observed as he looked between the boys.

"I was telling him about my tormented childhood under the oppressive thumb of parents who loved me more than anything and would buy me everything I never wanted. Ooooh it was hoooooorrrrible," Draco said dramatically as he whisked his wrist up to press against his forehead and rolled his eyes.

Harry was glad Malfoy was having fun with this. The boy who lived was absolutely mortified. Did Dumbledore know? He must suspect something was going on or he wouldn't have called them both to his office. Although the way that the headmaster kept glaring at Malfoy, it was clear that he suspected that the Slytherin was up to something. Though Harry tried not to gaze at Draco, it was difficult. He wanted so badly to talk to him, but then again, it seemed as if the way they'd left things had been ideal. Draco wasn't scared and he had seemed open to the possibility of a real relationship-just not yet.

The old man raised his brows over his spectacles at Draco's display for a moment and then observed Harry and the way that he seemed to be taken with the blond. A flash of recognition sparked over the old man's face and he gave a nod almost unto himself. "Well then. It would seem that perhaps in the spirit of letting you two work together again, I shall let Sinistra's essay stand. However, the extra week's worth of detention shall not be necessary seeing as neither of you actually destroyed or damaged anything. Your final detention shall be spent in the library. Harry, I wish you to stay," Dumbledore announced as Malfoy scoffed and pushed himself up off of the chair.

The Gryffindor and the Headmaster watched Draco make his hasty and petulant exit. Draco had hoped to paw at Harry a bit more on the swiveling stairs, but it seemed to not be in the cards that morning. That was all right, he had his own date with the imp and he'd get him then, he reasoned as he took one last look at Harry and gave him a quick smirk before he vanished from view.

Slowly, Harry turned around to face the Headmaster who was still watching the empty doorway for a moment. "Harry... it would seem that your relationship with Draco has altered in some ways. While I had hoped that perhaps forcing the two of you together might form a truce or even perhaps a bond, I sense that you have yet again exceeded my expectations." Giving a wry smile at Harry's nervous squirm and wide-eyed swallow as the boy seemed to be trying to puzzle out what the older man knew, Dumbledore carried on. "I do not know what manner of connection you have formed with the young Malfoy, Harry. But based on my understanding of youthful desires for the 'bad boy' and perhaps even your own wish to play hero and save the boy, I do understand your gazing at him."

"I was not gaz-"

Holding up his hand to halt Harry's objections, Dumbledore noted Harry's crimson blush and frowned sympathetically. There was much that could be told by simple body language and while the Slytherin had likely been coached on avoiding the pantomime that gave away a guilty conscience, Potter had not. "Nevertheless, gazing at him or not, I will simply caution you on getting too close. While you along with Severus are working on the boy, and given the absence of his father, he may yet turn from his path. Still, and again, I must caution you against getting too close," Dumbledore stated.

"But... why?" Harry said as his brows furrowed in confusion. Snape was working on Draco? But of course, that made perfect sense. The two were fairly close, as far as teacher and student went. And some of Draco's observations were far too clever to have come from a teenaged introspection. Somehow Harry found himself jealous of that. Not just of the time that Draco spent with Snape, but that his turning from the Death Eaters might have more to do with his role model than himself.

"Harry, anyone that close to you has the chance of being used against you. Remember that the Dark Lord has fooled you before at a high cost to your godfather. You must be wary of whom you let so close to you. Not just that he is a Death Eater's son, Harry. If I were concerned that Malfoy were an actual threat I would not have allowed your detentions to be set together. However, you must always bear in mind that whom you love has a great risk of being used against you to their peril. It is wonderful to love and be loved. But under the best of circumstances it is a risk, Harry."

Harry's green eyes darkened and he looked down into his lap before he closed his eyes at the mention of Sirius and the overwhelming sense of guilt that was inextricably entwined with how his godfather's life had ended. Though he realized that it was mostly his own fault for following the red herring of his implanted dream, Snape had let him down by discontinuing the lessons. If he'd been a better Occlumens... if Snape had given him a better indication that he'd understood him.... And then there was the jealousy. Snape could talk to Malfoy. Snape was permitted to care about the boy. But Harry was forbidden to? "Right."

"You cannot forget who you are-"

"I've got it."

"Harry."

"I understand," Harry snapped as he hopped to his feet and yanked his bag over his shoulder. "Is that all?"

Dumbledore looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something more. His face was pained at having to point this out to the Gryffindor, but he had to keep the boy in mind. With a quick incline of his head and a flick of his fingers, he dismissed Harry and the stone stairwell started its familiar grind. Turning on his heel, Harry trudged towards the exit, feeling hurt and heavy with mourning for his already confused feelings. Now that he couldn't and shouldn't have Malfoy, he'd never wanted him more.

 

 

By the time Harry got to the library, Draco was nearly to the end of the parchment. His script was graceful and elegant and not at all like Harry's rough script. The Slytherin's lips were pressed together and his brows furrowed in thought as he looked over at the text again and then went back to writing. In fact, in that pose Draco looked distressingly like Hermione. A fact that Harry wouldn't make mention of.

"How long have you been here?" Harry asked as he set his book bag down beside the table and peered upside down at Draco's text.

"Since classes let out," Draco answered without looking up, determined to finish the essay.

"Umm... why?" Harry asked.

"Because this essay needed doing, and I didn't want to waste our time working on it," stated Draco.

Our time. Harry bit his lip trying not to beam. "You know that's never going to pass for my having done it," he pointed out.

Draco let out a bark like laugh, "Yes, I've seen that chicken scratch you call handwriting. Just copy it over. Make a few grammatical errors. I'm sure the improved quality of your research can be easily written off to my helping you."

Harry folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I forget how much better than me you are," he said acerbically.

"You always did miss the obvious."

"Sarcasm is totally lost on you, isn't it?" Harry asked in amusement as he kicked back a chair across from the Slytherin and flopped down in it allowing his robes to fall askew around him and the chair.

"Only when it's delivered inadequately," Draco said, finishing the last sentence with a flourish and dotting the period dramatically. He blew over the ink and dropped the quill into its inkwell and then released the scroll to let it curl up into a loose roll. His great task completed, he raised his arms up and stretched back against the chair, arching his back dramatically as he shook back his blond tresses. The rival Seeker then pulled his arms back and rubbed his stomach in satisfaction as he sat up again and gave Harry a purring smile. "Well, now that that is out of the way, what shall we do for our detention? Want to slip under the desk?" he asked waggling his pale brows as he spread his legs and leaned in.

"Evidently you're also selectively deaf. I said 'no sex,'" Harry reminded him seriously, although his lips were tugging into a slight smile. It was nice being desired. And maybe given what Dumbledore had warned-would sex count? It wasn't exactly love, was it? But he was playing with himself there, wasn't he? He knew how he felt. That wasn't going to change if he kept letting the Slytherin touch him.

Draco's pale hand sailed through the air in his familiar dismissive way. "Then we talk. What shall we talk about? I'd like to bring up the way your skin blotches when you come," he said with that self same dirty and yet mocking grin. "Maybe the way you cry out my name? Maaa-a-a-aaaallll-foy!" the Slytherin crooned in a quiet imitation of Harry's own lustful vocalizations.

Harry's green eyes widened in horror and arousal at this and he glanced around the library to see if anyone were in close enough proximity to have heard that. There didn't appear to have been. It was late in the evening and early in the school year. There weren't that many people hanging about at the moment and even Madam Pince seemed to be more concerned with whether Neville Longbottom was going to cause any of his usual inept devastation. Cupping his hands over the sides of his face to keep his blush being evident to anyone who might glimpse their way he hissed to Malfoy, "No, you KNOW that's not what I mean."

The pale boy's hand splayed out palm up diffidently. "Well then, what do you want to know?" Though his speech implied that he was an open book, immediately after his words were spoken his arms crossed and his left ankle hooked up over his right leg and then crossed completely.

"I don't know. Anything."

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I go to school at Hogwarts. I'm Prefect and in Slytherin House," he mocked.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Did you like being a spoilt child?" he tried. Given what he'd heard from Malfoy in Madam Malkin's and just that morning in Dumbledore's office, he seemed to be pleased with it. But perhaps it would start him rolling on something.

"It was great," Draco said flatly.

"Oh."

"Mmm hmm," the Slytherin said as if agreeing with himself that it was a great childhood.

On the best of days Harry wasn't great at making conversation, he hadn't realized that most of their easy conversation up to this point was completely reliant on Malfoy's abilities. But Malfoy wasn't cooperating, which was starting to eat at Harry's tender feelings. "I lived locked in a cupboard under the stairs," Harry blurted out.

Draco cackled and rolled his eyes. "Right. Good one. Were you the troll? Did you charge for passage over the stairs?" he asked in amusement, honestly thinking this was a game. Then he stopped and looked at Harry whose countenance remained serious. Potter wasn't that good of an actor. "What? A cupboard?" he asked as if this was still rather impossible. "Were you poor?"

"Well, sort of. I mean, the family wasn't but I didn't have any money-"

After giving this news some thought, Draco shook his head not buying this at all, "Well why didn't you tell Dumbledore about it? He's practically your boyfriend, I'm sure he would've fixed it up."

"I didn't know about Dumbledore."

Draco tilted his head and raised his brows in a way that said, 'oh please' and held up his hands as if to stop the speech.

"I didn't know about wizards at all, let alone that I was one. They told me my parents died in a car crash," Harry explained.

Letting out a very put upon sigh, Draco rolled his eyes and looked off to another part of the library, "Why are you making up this story, Potter? Is this to get attention? Honestly, I thought you better than this."

Harry slapped his palm to his forehead. It had never once occurred to him that should he actually want to talk about his childhood with someone that they wouldn't believe him. "It's the TRUTH!" he insisted.

"You know, if that was the way your childhood was, why aren't people talking about it? I mean, why wasn't it in The Daily Prophet? They tell everything else about you," he said as he shrugged his shoulder and looked back at the aggrieved Gryffindor.

"Because it's... it's... a secret."

"Then why are you telling me? I'm not your friend. I'm your-"

"Enemy, right," Harry intoned in annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "No not that kind of secret. It's just personal. I don't want everyone running about feeling sorry for me all the time, is all," he stated as he stared into Draco's grey eyes. He still looked as if he didn't believe Harry, although it was starting to fade a bit into his acceptance of it being a possibility.

"Pfft. Well, don't expect me to feel sorry for you."

"I don't WANT you to feel sorry for me! I'm just... gah! Why are you being like this?" Harry asked him as his green eyes started to flare in his irritation.

"I just don't know why you're telling me this!" he quipped as his nostrils flared in irritation.

Harry's mouth opened and closed and then he looked down, feeling utterly shot down. Did Draco truly not know why Harry was telling him this? Perhaps he was being daft. Draco had said straight out that it was about sex for him. Harry had just taken it for defensive bluster. But maybe he was just being honest and Harry had missed it. The brunette swallowed and it was his turn to look off at another part of the library.

Draco watched him and he set his jaw and flexed it a few times as he thought about what to say. He'd hurt the Gryffindor and clearly Harry had gotten the wrong impression as to why. Eyelids fluttering closed, Draco moistened his lips and then said, "It must have been very lonely. I suppose whether locked in a cupboard or a large manor-" he broke off there and rolled his eyes at himself. "Well I hope they let you out to piss at least," Draco sniffed.

The green-eyed brunette slowly turned his head back and looked at Draco for a moment. Malfoy lonely? And just as soon as that relatable boy showed himself, he snapped himself back out of it. "Draco, go on."

Draco's eyes scanned Harry for a moment, as if he were deciding whether to share this part of himself or not. After a beat, he let out a short huff and spoke. "Oh, I think I'll spare you the teen angst of mummy and daddy didn't love me. Because that is not how it was. They spoiled me completely. Mum still does," he said and shrugged a little and sniffed. "There were just not that many parents willing to set up play dates for the child of an accused Death Eater. I mean, the charges were dismissed and all, but no one really believed it. I think they let him stay at the Ministry hoping he'd slip up. But my father is brilliant and cunning and he used his reputation to intimidate others into getting what he wanted. Which was great for him. It just... again, didn't lead to much of a social life for me. Just Crabbe and Goyle. And Nott."

Harry had never thought about that before. But it made sense. It also made sense now why such a petite blond seemed to command Slytherin House to his bidding. Draco's father was a huge threat. The dark wizard scared even Harry. Although as Harry thought about Malfoy and his little gang, Nott didn't seem to be one amongst his toadies. "What happened with Nott?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "He does his own thing."

"Do you have any friends, Draco?" Harry asked after thinking about how he seemed to have followers more than people he related to.

Rolling his eyes, Draco's arms tightened crossed over himself. "I have loads of friends, Potter. I'm the most popular boy in Slytherin House," he spat out.

"Harry," the brunette reminded him, noting how Draco reverted to his last name when he got irritated. And it was evident he'd struck a nerve. "I'm your friend, Draco."

"Don't do me any favors, Potter."

Harry frowned and looked away again. This wasn't going well at all. But what did he expect? "Maybe I need a friend."

At this, Draco seemed to perk up a bit. "What do you need a friend for? You've got that Mudblood and the weasel to keep you company. Although, I bet they don't know what a dirty little boy you are," he said as he leaned in and pressed his elbows against the dark of the table in front of him giving Harry a rather lascivious sneer.

"Don't call her that. Or him that! And don't... look at me like that!" Harry protested as he felt his cheeks burn, although at least Draco didn't look angry anymore. The boy was stormy. Defensive. Perhaps Dumbledore was on to something when he called Malfoy a bad boy. What good could honestly come out of this? Nothing. Nothing at all. In his frustration Harry was about to say something about how the Slytherin wasn't worth the trouble if he was going to continue to be like this when he suddenly realized that the boy was no longer sitting in front of him. His eyes cast around the dark library as if Draco could have gotten particularly far in the short time Harry was thinking when he felt pressure on his lap.

Looking down in shock, he saw pale hands steadily pulling at his belt, deftly bypassing the tine and already working the button and zipper. Harry's head whipped up and he peered around the library to see if anyone was looking their way, but it seemed that the area was still fairly empty. Only Pince was in view and she seemed to be fixated on Longbottom still. Or at least glaring at someone who wasn't in the boys' direction. Harry let out a small squeak as he felt his erection lifted out of his pants and briefly exposed to the air before it was bathing in the warm of Malfoy's mouth. "I said no sex," Harry whispered. "I want to talk!" he protested helplessly.

From under the desk, Draco pulled his mouth off of the worried prick and retorted. "So talk. I'm out of things to say. Tell me more about your childhood," he snorted.

"People will wonder whom I'm talking to," Harry pointed out.

"So don't talk," Draco said and again engulfed the organ, sliding his tongue persuasively up and down the shaft before twitching it along the underside of the head.

Harry's hands moved down to either side of the chair. He felt sick. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to talk to Malfoy. He wanted to be more than his sex toy. He wanted to know the boy. As good as the sex was, this wasn't what he needed. Pulling up one foot, he pushed it against Draco's shoulder shoving the boy back. Draco's mouth made a fairly loud suctioning sound as his lips parted Harry's erection and the noise attracted the attention of Madam Pince. Harry swiftly yanked his robe up over his exposed manhood as he heard her call out, "Are you eating over there?"

"Not anymore," Draco said bitterly under his breath as he shoved himself back into his seat.

"No, Madam Pince," Harry said loudly over Draco's mutter. "Just... uhh... making mouth noises."

She didn't look entirely like she bought that and sniffed in their direction, but didn't smell any food. "See to it that you don't."

Draco's hand moved up dismissively at her as he glared at Harry.

"I told you NO," Harry said.

"Fine."

"Why do you spite me?"

"Why do you push me?" Draco asked as he glared up at the clock resentfully, noting there was still a half an hour left to their detention.

"I just want to get to know you."

"What good is that going to do either of us, Harry? I can't fix that you lived in a cupboard, or that you thought your parents died in a car crash. All knowing that does is make me sad and a little angry," Draco huffed.

"It does?" Harry asked, mildly surprised.

"Well, Muggles are insufferable."

"Is that the only reason it bothers you?"

Draco mashed the palms of his hands into his eyes and folded his pale fingers up over his hair. "Stop it," he insisted as his pale face started to flush with his discomfort.

"Draco..."

"Stop it. I don't like you at all! God, leave me ALONE!" the flustered blond shouted, raising the ire of Madam Pince again.

"Boys," the librarian warned.

Draco's breathing was accelerated and he looked upset. No, not just upset, the blond appeared terrified. Harry pressed his lips together and looked at Pince and then back to Draco and back once more. He watched her turn her attentions back down to a book she was now reading and slowly slid himself down the chair and under the desk.

The Slytherin's elbows were digging into the desk and his hands were over his eyes again as he tried to master his eruptive emotions. His outburst was uncharacteristic and he felt his passions running rampant. It wasn't good. Harry was getting to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to give the boy what he wanted; he just wasn't ready. He didn't know what it meant to him, or how this fit into his life. The blond waif wasn't even sure if it should fit into his life. Draco was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't seen Potter slide down his chair and crawl to him under the desk. All he knew was that suddenly there were hands on his crotch causing him to shriek and jump up.

Draco's thigh caught onto the desk, causing it to noisily shudder before he pulled back, gripping his bruised leg. Harry was so taken aback at Draco's sudden departure from the chair that his own reflexes kicked in and he also jumped up to standing. The desk cracked hard on Harry's shoulder, but didn't stop his progress to standing. Rather, the dark wood dug into his shoulder and rode the Gryffindor's body upward until it finally fell off of his body with a loud crash that reverberated through the large stone room. A corner of the desk splintered and cracked before it landed awkwardly upside down, legs standing uselessly upright. Books fluttered askew onto the ground and a couple grew legs and skittered off to hide from the commotion. Harry flushed. Draco quailed. Both boys slowly turned their heads to look at Madam Pince who was positively shaking with agitation at the disruption and destruction of her precious desk and frightened tomes.

"ANOTHER WEEK OF DETENTION!"


	7. Faith

 

"And so why are you engaging in intercourse with him, Draco?"

"I don't know. It's fun?"

"Are you sure it isn't more than that?"

"I don't know."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know. I might."

"What makes you think you might?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know a lot, Draco. That isn't like you. Are you being honest with me?"

"As honest as I can be, sir, I just don't know."

"I don't think you're telling me the truth."

"Fine, then use your Legilimency on me AGAIN. Poison my tea with Veritaserum. Maybe then you can tell me what's going on," Draco hissed bitterly, still burning from Snape's earlier encroachment on his mind.

"Defensiveness doesn't become a Malfoy or a Slytherin, Draco," Snape said as he sat back into his chair and shook his head at the blond.

"Prying into my sex life doesn't become a teacher, Professor," Draco shot back.

"It is part of my duty to protect you."

"Then give me a condom and shut up about it."

"Draco, you know how dangerous this is. You're not a frivolous boy, usually. You're taking an immense risk, and Potter is not worth it," Snape said.

"Whether Harry is worth it or not is so beyond your business I don't even know where to start!" Draco defended.

Snape was offended and envious. He'd long been Draco's confidante and only real friend. The Potion's Master rather enjoyed his position as role model in the young man's life and finding out so late in the game that Draco was experimenting with, of all people, Harry Potter hurt his pride. It was wrong of him to have used Legilimency against the blond. Invasive. And Draco let him know of his irritation in a thousand barbed remarks he was throwing at the black-clad man. Had it been THAT important that he know for certain what Dumbledore had suspected? Snape was beginning to regret his decision.

"Well, I suppose one way or the other you've earned another week of detention to sort it all out."

"Unless Dumbledore strikes it down again," Draco pointed out.

"He alerted me to that possibility. He's suspicious. Anyways, he'll have a harder time striking this one down as you've again caused property damage," Snape observed.

"Potter caused the damage. I was..." Draco smirked at the naughtiness of what had led to that, deciding to forget entirely his near-break down.

Snape watched Draco's expression and his brows rose at what might've caused that manner of grin on the blonde's face. The boy's hurried explanation at the time that included Draco shoving Harry back against the desk didn't hold much water given that the Gryffindor's lower back was spotless. Given the nature of how the boys were found standing and the injury Potter had sustained to his shoulder it was clear that there was some manner of under-desk activity going on before the disruption. "You enjoy that you drive the boy to destruction, don't you?"

Draco's self-satisfied smirk said it all.

"You're playing with fire, Draco. What would your father say?" Snape chided him.

"Help, help, I'm in Azkaban and my son's a fag!"

"Be serious! You're not a child and lives are at stake. What if the Dark Lord were to find out?" Snape snapped as he slapped his hand on the desk for emphasis.

"He's too old for me. No threesomes. I don't like to share anyways," Draco said caustically as he tossed back his blond hair and lifted his chin pompously. "You're not invited either."

"That's enough!" Snape said, his black eyes glittering angrily. He knew Draco wasn't this impulsive. The boy was normally meticulous right down to his relationships and how he handled them. This recent spate of rebelliousness against the Potions Master had Potter written all over it. Draco said he didn't know how he felt, and perhaps he really wasn't self-aware enough to hone in on his emotions but the way he was behaving made it all too obvious to Snape. Harry had really gotten to him. And Draco was scared. "I'm going to recommend your detentions be spent separately. You may spend your detentions with me."

Draco's eyes cast down and his nostrils flared. "Good memories with Potter in your classroom," he said nastily.

Though Snape had seen more than his fair share of teenaged angst that vented itself in spitefulness, coming from Draco it pained him. He paled visibly as he thought about the sanctity of his classroom being violated by two hormonally charged adolescent boys. "Nevertheless, that will be my recommendation. You will thank me later. Believe me."

"Whatever," Draco snapped as his arms folded around himself. "Is that all or do you want to violate my mind some more?"

"You may go."

 

 

"I'm not denying what you imagine you feel Potter, but you must admit that you form these attachments rapidly," McGonagall pointed out to the Gryffindor.

"Wha- I... what do you mean?"

"The first friend you made on the train, you've kept. You barely spent time with Sirius Black but you formed such an attachment you risked everything to save him. And now look at you," the Gryffindor Head of House pointed out with a flippant gesture of her hand.

Harry hated having Sirius thrown in his face and this was becoming a recurring theme. Suddenly Harry could appreciate Malfoy's caustic nature and he wished for a bit more of that wit and bravado right now to deal with this. But instead he just looked down at his hands and said nothing.

"I don't say this to upset you, but it seems that you are deliberately going down the most hazardous and self-destructive path you could. Malfoy is--"

"He's what? Dangerous? I'm the one who's dangerous, aren't I? Isn't that what this is all about? People I love die? I should give up? Stop talking to him? Shut myself away and never talk to anyone else again?" Harry asked with an angry anguish.

"You know that's not what I'm saying. Potter, even if you weren't who you were, given your different houses and the alternate lifestyle--"

Harry exhaled loudly at the "alternate lifestyle" comment and slapped his hands down onto his knees in irritation.

"I cannot and will not tell you who to love. But be forewarned that continuing this course of action will be thorny and perilous. You will be continuing with your detention for the week, but Malfoy shall be serving it with Professor Snape," McGonagall said sensibly and shoved her tin of cookies closer to Harry, knowing that news was not going to please him.

"WHAT?" he squalled, shoving the tin back towards the professor.

"Professor Snape is Malfoy's Head of House. It is his call. It is out of my hands, I am afraid. However," she said as she inclined her body towards the youth, softening her usually hard expression. "I think that you know of a place where you might meet with him, should you need to talk things over." Minerva's eyes shifted slightly, she knew this was crossing the line but seeing Harry in front of her looking so distraught reminded of her own doomed teenaged romance.

Furthermore, she thought that Snape was overreacting and she didn't much care for his hysterics in their meeting with Dumbledore over the possibility of the boys being together. Harry was a loving boy. Draco was a lonely boy close to turning from a dark path. Shutting them down would just drive the pair to taking more risks to see one another and that would heighten the risk of them being found out. Because of this she had suggested they provide a space for the boys to meet that was safe and private. Snape, however, came out against this idea vehemently and Dumbledore deferred to the House authorities and she was overruled. That didn't keep her from making suggestions.

"I... what? I do?"

"If there's a space to meet that you REQUIRE..."

"Huh?" Harry asked. Minerva rolled her eyes. Usually Harry was a bit more on the ball, but he seemed rather distracted with his brooding.

"You might try the seventh floor?"

Harry's eyes widened for a moment. He tilted his head as he looked at her and his lips slowly curled up into a smile. Then he sat back and nodded at her. The Head of Gryffindor House hadn't seen such a beaming smile from the boy since early on in fifth year, before he was tossed out of Quidditch and all of the unfortunate events since then. If she'd had any doubts about the wisdom of advising this, they were erased by the true joy she saw on her charge's face.

"Very good. We understand each other. Report to Hagrid at eight tonight and you may start your detentions," she said with a curt nod and a gesture to the door.

Harry stood up still beaming and now blushing a bit at the thrill of a plan to see Draco he said quietly, "Thank you." Then he turned and sprinted out of the office to figure out how to arrange a meeting with the Slytherin.

 

 

It was crowded in the Great Hall. It took Harry most of breakfast to finally figure out what he was going to do and then most of History of Magic to suss out how he would do it. Crabbe and Goyle always flanked Draco and at alternate times Parkinson and Bullstrode were part of the fray. The only times he saw Draco alone were in the detentions and when he evidently walked the halls flaunting his prefect duties looking for Gryffindors to... no. Harry was the only one. Certainly he wasn't out shopping nightly? The idea made Harry ill and he made a mental note that maybe he should... no. Was he going crazy?

It was nerves. It had to be. He was about to do something very risky and it could land him a severe hexing. But he had to take the risk. He wasn't sure how else to do this. After History of Magic, Harry ran off to the bathroom and sat in a stall to draft out a quick note to Draco.

"Meet me outside of Slytherin Wednesday night at 2 am. I might pop out of nowhere, don't scream."

Harry didn't sign his name, nor attach Draco's to the note. This had to go smoothly to work. But if it didn't... it would just be another scrap of paper on the floor. Someone meeting outside of Slytherin past curfew would be all anyone would know. All through lunch Harry stole glances at Draco who seemed to be in an even nastier mood than usual. Pansy sat dejectedly next to Malfoy looking too put out to speak. Goyle was still blushing from some scathing comment that Malfoy must have made and Crabbe was simply stuffing his face. If Harry had any doubts of what McGonagall had told him about Snape's opinion on their so-called relationship, or whether Malfoy was made aware of it, the answer was most definitely expressed at Slytherin's table.

Draco had been bitter and sulky through the morning classes. He terrorized Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike, docking points for minor infractions. He spat spiteful spleen at his cronies, glared at Pansy when she'd tried to speak to him about what was fussing him and even had nothing but disparaging looks for Snape. The blond hadn't tried to look at Harry, not that he was to be seen in the Great Hall at the moment anyways. Looking at Harry would be too hard. They weren't to see one another anymore. It was hard, but what could he do? Run over to his side and sit with him at lunch? Ask to hold his hand in the corridor? It had been just about sex, he reminded himself. And Draco Malfoy could get sex anywhere. However, the thought of sex with anyone else made him completely lose his appetite. The fork midway up to his face, Draco's nose wrinkled and he dropped the utensil. He then slapped his hand on the table in irritation. "I've had enough of this swill. It's time to go," he hissed as he shoved himself up by the hand on the table.

Seeing the blond Slytherin stand and then the minions follow suit, Harry was cued. The Gryffindor hadn't joined his mates at the table and instead made an excuse about needing to catch up on homework. Harry had lain in wait just outside of the Great Hall waiting for Malfoy to pass by. The arrogant blond didn't disappoint. Standing tall and malicious in front of his group, he strutted out between the large wood doors just as Harry started to walk in as if he were just running unusually late for lunch.

Draco's mouth opened as he looked at the other boy, momentarily stunned. Then his nostrils flared and his sneer reappeared. He was a bit taken aback that Harry didn't seem to notice him there, but instead smacked hard into his shoulder, swiveling him to one side. "What are you playing at, Potter?" he hissed as he felt the boy's calloused hand against his. Then he felt parchment pressed carefully into his palm. It seemed like a terribly long moment of realization that Harry was passing him something and his fingers closed over it in time, brushing over it to make sure it was really what he thought it was.

"What? Sorry, didn't see you there, Malfoy. You're so insignificant that I missed you entirely," Harry shot back. It wasn't his best work, but he was nervous.

"I could say the same about YOUR insignificance but your bodily odor announced your presence long before I saw you!" he hissed as he deftly slid the note into his pocket and brought his other hand up to brush at his shoulder as if any part of Harry that had touched him might need to be flensed.

It was hard for Harry not to laugh, watching Draco's little act. But whatever humor he was finding in the situation dried up when he saw the glares of Crabbe and Goyle. Both minions looked more than eager to please Malfoy, particularly since the tyrant had been in such a foul mood. Flexing their arms and cracking their knuckles, Harry started to back away only to hear Hermione from not too far behind him clear her throat.

"I was wondering what smelled like day old trout suddenly," Draco sniffed nastily as he glared at Granger. "Crabbe. Goyle," he snapped as he neatly turned on his heel to get them on their way. His hand instantly moved to his pocket and he fingered the piece of parchment longingly. Fighting the urge to whip it out and read it now, he headed his gang down towards Slytherin dorms.

Once in the Common Room, he bid his lackeys to stay downstairs as he headed to his room. Slamming the door behind him, he whipped the note out of his pocket and read over it a few times before he understood what it said. Then he closed his eyes and smiled. Wednesday. But it was Thursday now. That was nearly a week! Still, it was better than anything he had planned and they did have their separate detentions that they would otherwise have to dodge until then. With a low sigh and one last look at the calendar, Draco resigned himself to having to wait.

Draco headed to his finely carved trunk and bid it open with his password. The flying and swirling dragon pattern parted and revealed the handle and he opened the trunk. Feeling around for the secret compartment where he hid all of his treasures, he pressed the note at the top of them. He read the note one last time before he shut the side drawer. Wednesday.

 

 

Hermione frowned at Harry's goofy grin after Malfoy's gang had all turned and started away. "I'm glad YOU think it's funny. You're just lucky I saw you out here. I thought you were going to the library, Harry? I was there and couldn't find you anywhere," she pointed out.

"Oh. Did I say the library? I meant my room. Sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to worry you." Damn he was getting better at deceit.

"Lucky I was here. I heard that Malfoy is riotous about another week of detentions. At least you don't have to take them together," she said, remembering that Harry had mentioned their separate detentions over breakfast. It was curious he'd seemed disheartened about it. And now this confrontation that ended so peacefully. She wondered if they'd become friends.

"Yes. Lucky," Harry said absently as he watched until the blond turned the corner.

"Come on, let's get some lunch," Hermione said as she tugged on his robe. Her eyes fixed on the empty space where Malfoy was. She wondered.


	8. Feeling Oblivion

_If things get real promise to take me somewhere else,_   
_By the time fear takes me over will we still be rolling and feeling oblivion.  
\-- Turin Brakes_

 

Denial, Draco decided as he opened his eyes that morning, was not working out for him. Having Harry Potter in his thoughts constantly wasn't exactly a change for Malfoy. However the way he was seeing the boy who lived was most definitely different. While before he thought of the way Harry looked while falling from his broom or when he was afraid of Dementors, now he thought about the way Harry moaned. He thought about his eyes, the way his lips moved when he sibilated his name, the way he felt burrowed deep inside of Malfoy's own-- "I may be a fag, but I'm not a bottom!" Draco said aloud, muffled by the foamy toothpaste still in his mouth.

"What?" a very alarmed and no less sudsy Crabbe asked, dropping his toothbrush.

Surprised that he'd spoken his thoughts; Malfoy's mind raced as he spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. "I SAID, 'I might be a dag, but I'm no Longbottom,'" he emphasized meaningfully.

"Who called you a dag?" Crabbe started.

"Shut up, Crabbe."

"But I thought-"

"Don't think, you're not good at it. Now spit out your suds, you look rabid," Draco snapped, turning his face away before anyone could see his blush. Denial was, indeed, clouding up his brain.

\--

Harry was anxious about keeping secrets from his friends. But then again, this wasn't exactly the first thing he'd kept from the duo. He still hadn't told them about the prophecy, not completely. How did you break that news to your friends? _"By the way, I'm going to have to become a murderer to rid the world of Voldemort. And by the by, I'm gay and having sex with Draco Malfoy. Hey, are those waffles?"_

Harry sighed as he allowed the water to run in long rivulets down his body and looked down at the full salute his erection was already giving at the mere thought of the blond. Swallowing hard he gave a quick glance towards the room, not that he could see through the curtain, nor the shut door into the room he shared with the other Gryffindors. It would be humiliating enough to be caught wanking, but to know that you were doing it thinking about what everyone assumed was one of your enemies? But then, how would they know what he was thinking about?

Harry was ready to stop when he felt his own calloused brown fingers tracing over the head of his length. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he looked again at the curtain, as if he could make out the figures of the other boys through solid objects. They'd been asleep when he'd gotten into the shower. But it was daybreak; they had to get up soon enough. However before he could put rational thought to it, he was stroking himself.

He thought of Malfoy. The way the Slytherin moved, the way he felt, god how his pale fingers darted in and out of his own pink orifice so effortlessly. How Draco's back had arched and those thin shoulders had writhed and his body flexed as Harry pushed into him. He remembered the arc of Draco's body edging towards him, the texture of the alabaster skin as Harry's fingers kneaded at it. The way his former rival smelled of lavender and lemons. Draco's semen, the bitter and salty fluid and how it spilled into and over his mouth, the warm coating of it over his face, the soft patina of it inside of his anus.

Harry's thumb stroked through his pre-come and back down his shaft as his other hand braced against the wall as he thought in abstractions of Malfoy. The look of surprise on the teen's visage when he'd pressed the parchment into his hand and the subsequent brief smile. The way Draco's silvery eyes roamed over Harry's form when he thought no one was looking. The gentle way the corners of Draco's lips turned up when he realized Harry caught his gazing. His brain tried hard to picture Draco speaking to him, looking adoringly into his eyes and saying those words. The words he longed to hear. _Harry, I love you, Harry. I lo--_

Harry had a quick and depressing spurting release against the wall of the shower. His emerald eyes flashed open and he glared at the semen dribbling down the shower wall and then reached up to direct the spray at it. He watched his leavings disjoin and slide down the tile and into the drain. Love. Harry wanted to feel loved. He wanted to belong. Balling his hand into a fist, he smacked the pinky end of his hand against the moistened clay tile and then leaned in to let the water dissolve the tears of frustration prickling his eyes.

\--

Draco couldn't sleep. Again. His mind wandered to Harry, wandered to the note buried deep into his trunk. No. He was not going to get that ruddy note out and fondle it again. The words were already practically polished off and it was only Saturday night. And that was the rub, wasn't it? No cacophony of snores at 10 pm on a Saturday night. No, even Crabbe and Goyle were out having fun and Draco Malfoy was lying in bed trying to sleep. Why? Because the more he slept, the sooner Wednesday would come around.

Did Draco Malfoy admit to himself that's what he was doing? Of course not. Malfoy had made excuses for his ill mood and constant sleeping that ranged all the way from Goyle's over eating making him nauseated, to Parkinson's cackling laughter giving him a migraine. Further, he simply couldn't tolerate hearing his gang going on about how unbearable Harry was. Not that it was their fault, really. Traditionally when Draco had been in a foul mood, picking on Potter had been one of the few things that would improve his disposition. Now, however, it just made him ashamed of how he'd been behaving up to this point and filled him with a defensive irritation for those slaying the character of his lover.

Lover. Harry Potter was his lover? Well, what else could he be? As much as Draco had wanted to push it aside, he'd been two days past deciding that denial was no longer working. Sadly, embracing his feelings in the face of such huge house rivalries and his own machinations made it impossible to do anything other than swirl about in his shame spiral.

In quiet moments while he was pretending to study or read, he'd glance over his cronies wondering which would be the first to turn on him if they found out. Parkinson would go hysterical, he was pretty certain. He wondered vaguely if she'd pull an Ophelia and go drown herself in a babbling brook. His brows rose as he thought about the Muggle-loving wizard Shakespeare. Perhaps he had the right idea. Go live amongst them and follow your own art. But Draco had no art. He was a Malfoy. That was all he was good at. It was all he ever was. And what he was and what he wanted were never going to mesh.

He gave brief thought to "Romeo and Juliet," the most widely known of the wizard Shakespeare's plays. Amusing himself with stupid thoughts of Harry, the romantic and noble hero climbing up his balcony at the Malfoy Manor, he'd just begun to picture Snape as the bellowing nurse when Nott sidled up to him and asked, "What's so funny, Malfoy?"

Draco hadn't realized he was snickering into his Potions book. Looking sourly from the book to Nott he sniffed, "Just remembering that sick broth you tried to pass off as a proper Enlightenment Serum. When will your lips turn back to their normal color, anyways?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Nott hissed as he took his seat across from the blond and glared.

"I keep telling you 'no' Nott, take a hint. You're not my type," Malfoy spat back turned his attentions back to his book.

At the completion of that memory, Draco anxiously turned over in his bed, pulling his dark sheets up over the flaxen strands of rumpled hair. He tried desperately to sleep in this new and awkward position with his stomach against the mattress. Opening one grey eye, he peered up irritably at his heirloom silver clock. Snakes slithered around the illuminated dial showing it was just past 1 am. As if on cue, the room brightened momentarily as Crabbe and Goyle made their way in. Draco snapped his eyes closed and remained motionless.

"Have you seen the way Potter's been checking Malfoy out? Disgusting, innit?"

_Great. Potter was so transparent even the goons had noticed. Brilliant._

"Pansy says she thinks it would be sexy to watch them at it."

_Ew. There were some things I never wanted know._

"She was all over Nott tonight, wasn't she? Should we tell Malfoy?"

_Like I care._

"I don't think he cares. He's distracted lately. Besides, she says she's going to hit on Potter, see if she can find out what's going on there. He's probably planning something against Malfoy."

_Bitch. Fag hag. Cunt._

"She's a whore."

"Good shag, though."

_...and back to things I never wanted to know._

The large boys bunged about a bit, and finally bumbled themselves into bed and fell asleep as loudly as humanly possible.

_Is it Wednesday yet?_

\--

Harry walked fretfully through the corridors of Hogwarts heading down to his final detention with Hagrid. This had been the longest week ever. He'd been short with Hagrid and he felt awful about it. It wasn't Hagrid's fault. No, actually in some ways it was his fault. They were still trying to care for Grawp, which was on top of other menial duties, beyond the scope of what Harry could realistically manage.

When Harry wasn't trying desperately to carry sacks of God knows what that were light to a half giant, but a nearly impossible burden to even drag for a human boy, he was trying to negotiate with a non-verbal giant that kept asking for "Hermy."

"I think ee's got a bit of er crush on 'ermione," Hagrid would point out.

"That's umm... sweet?" Harry tried as he looked up at Hagrid's brother trying not to think of just how that would work out..

But at least now he wouldn't have to deal with this for a while. He could get on with his regularly scheduled life and he had Wednesday night to look forward to. Provided that Draco showed up. They'd traded a few glances, brushed a little too close now and then, but other than that, Draco had remained stoic. Harry realized he was being a bit needy and that he should follow Draco's example. However it was simply in Harry's nature to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even some of Malfoy's cronies had caught on to his lingering glances that led to a rather uncomfortable situation involving Pansy Parkinson.

Pressed up against the wall with Parkinson sneering at him and implying all manner of provocative and foul situations. Harry had never been more thrilled to see Ron in his life. Vaguely, he wondered for how long Pansy was going to remain bald. He was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a moment to register that he'd heard the rustling of paper.

"Who's there?" Harry asked as he whirled around with his wand at the ready.

Again he heard the strange rustling, but it seemed nearer now. In alarm, Harry's eyes darted around, searching in vain for the source of the noise. "Hello?" he tried again.

Still nothing.

He looked up towards the ceiling when he thought he heard a noise from above, but there was nothing out of place there. His heart started to pound apprehensively as his eyes darted from side to side and then he looked to the ground.

The Gryffindor screamed as he felt something brush at his ear and his Seeker reflexes kicked in to snatch at whatever it was out of the air. Clenched in his fist was a piece of parchment that now appeared to be a mangled origami snitch. With shaking hands, Potter gently unfolded the note, which read, _"Is it fucking Wednesday yet?"_

"Soon, Malfoy," Harry whispered to himself as he beamed, pocketed the note, and headed outside to Hagrid's hut with a bit more of a spring in his step.


	9. Can't Make a Sound

_Bored in a role, but he can't stop_   
_Standing up to sit back down_   
_And lose the one thing found_   
_Spinning the world like a toy top_   
_Till there's a ghost in every town_   
_Can't make a sound  
\-- Elliott Smith_

 

Love means nothing to a tennis player. But what does it mean to a Malfoy? Draco looked at himself in the mirror. The flickering candlelight played over his fragile features, illuminating his grey eyes as he once more inspected his teeth and breathed into his hand to observe his breath.

The week had been harder than he thought it would be. Harry Potter had always been a part of his life, an obsession for half a decade. Although up to this past month he'd been trying desperately to end the boy. Now all he could think about was the stupid musty smell of his clothes and the impish untidiness of his hair. And then there was _the look_. That _look_ the brunette gave him just before they kissed.

Draco's memory burned with the stupid way he'd acted in the library. It had just been too much, too fast. He couldn't keep up with Potter emotionally. Having a week apart probably saved them both some trauma, as it gave Draco time to gain some perspective and to sort some things out. The extra time also made the Slytherin realize how necessary Harry had become, despite Snape's acerbic protests that rang through each detention like a blustery filibuster.

"Do you have an ice pick?" Draco had asked in the middle of a particularly daunting litany of Harry's shortcomings.

"You don't need an ice pick to cut up Flobberworms, Draco," Snape pointed out.

"No, but it would help to jab out my eardrums," the boy answered.

Shaking his head at the memory, Draco blew out the candle and crept back out of the bathroom. The dissonance of snores and other bodily noises in the room guaranteed him that Crabbe and Goyle were asleep. He'd doctored glasses of warm milk with the Draught of the Living Death to guarantee their not rousing in the night to find him gone. Snape had put them on high alert to keep an eye on Draco. But the Potion's Master had evidently forgotten that Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin. And he would have his way.

Standing outside of Slytherin, he made sure his shiny Prefect badge was in full evidence in case Filch came along. He didn't enjoy the way that man leered at him and even though he had full rights to be out in the night, he worried what the man might do if he didn't have his badge on. "Don't scream," Draco repeated to himself. What an odd thing to-

Harry clapped his hand over Draco's mouth before he had a chance to scream. Quickly he swirled the invisibility cloak up over Malfoy's platinum head to reveal to him that it was ok, it was just Harry. In his hand was the Marauder's Map that assured him no one was around when he'd made his move.

Draco had been well on his way to a surprised scream before Harry's hand was over his mouth and he was suddenly enveloped in the familiar boyish smell of his lover. "For the love of Merlin, Harry," he whispered to him, rolling his eyes in his annoyance at the surprise of being caught out like that.

Immediately Harry wrapped his arms around Draco who, in turn did the same, reveling in the feel of the boy who lived for a brief moment before they unclasped save for one arm around each other's waist. Draco held the fabric up as Harry consulted the Marauder's Map and directed them on the safest route up to the seventh floor. Searching out the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy being savaged by trolls in tutus, Harry started them back and forth in front of a blank wall concentrating hard on creating a room. Draco, having no clue as to why they were pacing decided that either Harry knew something he didn't, or had gone raving from being so close to his sexiness. And who could blame the boy?

After the third time around, Draco opened his mouth to say something when he saw a door appear. Pale brows raised, he simply followed Harry uncertainly into the Room of Requirement. The room was lovingly outfitted with a four-poster bed slightly larger the ones in the dorms, floating candles that flickered gently around the bed and a large squashy couch in front of a roaring fire. Shutting the door behind him, Draco slid out from under the invisibility cloak and immediately smoothed down his hair and remarked, "What, no bearskin rug?"

Harry blushed at the implication. Of course, Draco had no real way of knowing about the Room of Requirement and that this was all made in response to his thoughts. However, he probably did think that Harry set all of this up. "Must you always be such an ass?" he questioned as he slipped the cloak off of his body and cast around for somewhere to put it. Immediately a coat rack appeared and Harry hung it inside out on a black iron prong.

Snorting, Draco made his way over to Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled their hips together. "I thought it was part of my charm," he insisted as he smirked mischievously at the Gryffindor who blushed and rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure you know what that word really means, _Malfoy_?" Harry taunted good-naturedly.

"Oooh. _DRACO_!" he mocked as he hooked his fingers through the elastic of Harry's pajama pants. It was only then that he took in Harry's flannel nightclothes and his nose wrinkled. "What, don't see me for a week and you don't dress to impress?" he questioned. Although even Draco had to admit that even in the dim light of the sputtering candles, the worn and fuzzy green fabric really did something for Harry's striking almond-shaped eyes.

"Well, seeing as you don't usually allow me to stay clothed this long, I figured it didn't matter. And this is less likely to wrinkle when tossed on the floor," Harry sassed; pulling at the shoulder of the cotton material to prove it wouldn't hold a wrinkle.

"Corrupted and thinking like a pro already. My little boy's all grown up," Draco taunted, his smirk turning to a lascivious grin as he scanned Harry's face. "Well then, let's dispense with the pleasantries and get you bent over, Harry."

Harry cleared his throat and he pulled away. "Well, it's technically your turn to bend over, isn't it?" he questioned.

"Oh, taking turns, are we? How _romantic_."

"We evidently attended the same charm school," Harry countered.

Draco sneered as his hand moved to his own shimmering silvery silk pajama set. Bunching his fingers into the fabric of the top, he simply pulled it off over his head. Harry wasn't the only one thinking of what their apparel would look like crumpled beside the bed. Standing in only in his tenting pants, Draco dipped a tapered finger between his own radiant skin and the smooth fabric. "Then I suggest we dispense with the talking?"

"Draco!" Harry sputtered in shock. Why did this surprise him anymore? The blond always put off talking for action, and maybe he should take what he should get. Have sex and leave it like that. But now they had this room. No teachers waiting outside. No one knew where the two were. They had time. "We need to talk."

"We can talk later," Draco said as he closed the distance between them and skewed his head to the side to kiss at Harry's neck. His pale hands slipped up the brunette's torso, bypassing his nightshirt. Tasting the salty sweet tang of Harry's skin, Draco was working the material up with his arms. His fingers explored the ridges of Harry's nipples and then traveled to his back. Pressing his skin to the warmth of Harry's, Draco could feel the whimpering sigh of the Gryffindor.

After permitting Draco to pull the shirt over his head and fishing his arms back out of it, Harry put his hands on Draco's biceps and stilled his roving hands. "Stop. Wait," he insisted.

Obediently, Draco stopped and sighed. "Alright. Well... here, come on, let's just," he cast his eyes around for a moment. "Lay on the bed."

Nodding, Harry made his way to the bed and peeled back the covers and slid in. Draco followed and the Gryffindor gathered the blond into his arms and stared into his grey eyes for a moment, "Why don't you want to talk, Draco? Why is it always..."

"What is there to say, Harry?"

"Well, I want to know more about you."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "You've known me for five years. If you don't now me by now..."

"That's not the same. What are your hopes, your dreams, your fears?"

"Those... right now those aren't easy questions to answer. I was on a path-I... hm. I'm not sure exactly how to explain this without you getting angry. But you know how... I mean, who didn't know what path I was on? I was learning dark magicks and getting counsel from my father on what to do. Seeing where that path has led him to-- and let's face facts, he's so much stronger than I am.... It's just not logical for me anymore. And now this... and you... and... everything is changing so much since my father was imprisoned. For a while I fancied myself Snape's apprentice. But now we barely talk."

"Because of me?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged but nodded. "He hasn't said that outright-"

"But obviously-"

"Yes. Although my being a teacher would be-"

"About as bad as him as a teacher?" Harry asked mirthlessly.

Still Draco hand to chuckle at the idea of it, "Professor Malfoy. Not a very dignified profession for the sole heir of Malfoy, is it? Not that I need a job unless I'm disowned, and even then.... I'd be a crap teacher."

"I'm sure you'd be brilliant at whatever you decided to do."

Again he chuckled. " _Gryffindor,_ " he accused and rolled his eyes as he clutched Harry tighter to him. "So there you go. I shared. Do I get my cock sucked now?"

Harry sighed and wriggled his fingers under Draco's arms and shook his head. "You are impossible! Aren't you going to ask my dreams?"

After a quick squealing cackle at the tickling, Draco readjusted himself in a more defensive position against Harry, this time protecting his sensitive under arms. "Well, you dream about being with me. Which is sensible and commendable. Beyond that, why would I care?" he asked with a brow perked at a saucy angle that somehow managed to at once be infuriatingly arrogant and fantastically endearing.

"I want to be an Auror," Harry answered without being asked, pressing on despite Draco's attempts at derailment.

"Um, you realize you already don't have the grades--"

"I happen to think that saving the world from Voldemort should qualify me better than what grades I get from that greasy--"

"Right. Well," Draco started, flinching visibly at the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud and looking uncomfortable with the topic. Harry frowned at the Slytherin as he started to pull away from him.

"I will defeat him, you know," Harry goaded on.

"I don't doubt that," Draco said as he continued to recoil.

"Does that idea make you angry?" Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco as he tried not to look offended. "Would you rather _I_ be the one who dies?" Draco flinched again and now seriously started to wrestle away from Harry's anxiously clutching arms. "Well? Is that it? _You'd rather Voldemort and the Death Eaters win_?"

Draco became increasingly distressed, particularly as Harry grabbed his frail wrists and rolled on top of him. The Slytherin's face pinched up in a reddened irritation and hurt fury as Harry's knees pressed into his thighs. The abuse caused Draco to cry out, but Harry didn't let up. Instead he forced his full weight onto the blond and glared down at him as the intensity of Potter's rage flared. "Stop it! Get off of me!" Draco squalled in near hysterics.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?" hissed the boy who lived.

Shaking his head, Draco broke down in sobs, choking them out without any way to shield his face from the glaring Gryffindor. "Stop..." he whispered between his body-wracking fit of lamentation. But Harry didn't let up. Harry's calloused and brown fingers squeezed harder on Draco's wrists until he cried out again, begging him to stop.

Feeling his wrath flare dangerously, Harry spat out, "I want you to tell me. Say it to my face that you want me to die. Tell me you want me to lose this battle. _Tell me_."

"I..." Draco's face was scarlet with anguish and his breathing was labored. "Don't want..." He took a few more hard breaths as he tried to shift his hips to dislodge Harry only to feel the Gryffindor redouble his efforts to keep him pinned down. "Anyone to die. I lose someone I lo-" Draco stopped before he got it out and rolled his eyes and cast them down in the humiliation of his helplessness under Harry. "I lose either way."

"Oh god." Harry released Draco's wrists and stared in dismay at the boy beneath him. He had completely misread Draco. Utterly. He'd failed Draco. Failed to have faith in him and his feelings, even failed to trust his own instincts about what the Slytherin had felt. "I-"

Draco's released arms instantly wrapped around Harry and clung to him as the pale waif pressed his face into the crook of Harry's neck. He wept piteously against the Gryffindor. A riot of emotions each one no less treacherous than the last as it all swept over Malfoy in waves. His family or his lover, to have one would be the sacrifice of the other. And what was worse was that he'd brought this all on himself. He'd allowed himself into this spot by entertaining the notion of having Harry Potter in his life.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harry whispered to Draco as he clutched back at the wailing boy. He kissed the side of Draco's head lovingly as his fingers skimmed along the thin musculature of his lean sides. The muscles rippled in response underneath the delicate skin as Malfoy still quaked with unspent emotions that were bubbling over the corners of his eyes dampening Harry's neck. "I'm sorry. I love you, Draco. I love you so much," he whispered against the pale pink shell of the Slytherin's ear.

At this, Draco stilled, although surprisingly he didn't stiffen or shrink from the sentiments. Instead it seemed to pacify him. Love. Harry loved him. But he knew that already, didn't he? Deep down he knew that despite the Gryffindor's protests the week before that this was what he was going to say. "Say it again," Draco demanded as his arms slackened their grip on Harry's body. His fingers flexed and then started to trace patterns over Harry's supple, bronzed back.

"I love you," Harry responded as he pulled his head back from the clinging boy so that he could look down into the blood-shot grey eyes. "I love you, Draco," he spoke again, staring keenly at him. Moving a coarse hand up to Draco's angular blotchy face, he drew his finger beneath his lower eyelid to brush away the tears. His thumb swept tenderly over the now puffy and florid lips of his former rival, his lover, his Draco.

"Make love to me, Harry," Draco breathed against the caresses.

Green eyes curtained by the closing of his eyes, Harry breathed, "Yes," in response and pulled off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. Tilting his head to the side, he pressed his lips against Draco's and kneaded them till they yielded. Their languid tongues met lovingly as Draco's body rose up to press against Harry's enticingly.

The fire crackled and sparked, radiating warmth into the hazy room. Harry's hands slid down Draco's sides and he lovingly tugged at the waistband and nudged it down his porcelain thighs. The Slytherin's hands balled into fists in the fabric of Harry's flannel pants and he likewise pulled them down, watching as they caught on the his erection. Laying a thick hand over his length, Harry used his thumb to wedge it free kicked out of the clothing it easily.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked softly as he kissed against Draco's silken neck.

"I am," Draco answered as his hands slipped down Harry's supple back and he massaged the swell of the Gryffindor's ass. He delicately strummed his fingers over the compliant skin and opened his grey eyes to watch emotions play over the Gryffindor's face. Harry's lips parted and he exhaled gradually as he leaned down, pressing his length against the fold of Draco's thighs. Slowly he rubbed his hips against the crease of skin as he again kissed Draco, feeling his tongue met with a dreamy affection.

Make love to him. Make love to Draco. Harry was anxious. He'd done this before, but only once. Breaking the kiss he turned his head towards the table. As he wished it, there was a small bottle of lubricant and he grabbed for it. Spreading it over his fingers, he reached down slicked himself. Draco was luminous against the darkness of the sheets. One leg was pulled up at a simple but graceful angle and his colorless hair splayed out in stark contrast to the bed. Shadows played over his angular face making his expression even more vulnerable as his grey eyes scanned the boy who lived.

Leaning down again, Potter pressed his slippery fingers into Draco causing the boy's body to arc up against him. Harry stroked his thumb against the hard ridge of perineum and then moved his thumb up a bit higher to soothe the underside of the teen's scrotum. The Slytherin bit his lip and his brows furrowed as he tried to train himself to relax again. It took less time now, as his trust had grown and his body's reluctance waned. Soon Harry's fingers were sliding easily through the band of muscles and Draco's long arms and pallid fingers stroked up Harry's body, coaxing him against him. "Please," he whispered, longing for Harry's balmy body atop him and the exotic discomfort of their connection.

It was still painful for Draco to take Harry's length, but his muscles parted and strained, engulfing Harry as Draco's teeth bared to manage it. Glistening with a sticky patina of sweat, Draco pulled Harry down against him, listening to the quiet seal of their skin coming together. Draco hooked his arms in under Harry's shoulders and clutched him firmly as he worked his hips in time to Harry's.

The tanned youth rested his weight mostly on his elbows, freeing his hands to move under the pale teen. Hooking his fingers over Draco's shoulders, he moved in and out of him as his lips and tongue kissed over every bit of flesh that Draco's writhing body offered. Harry kissed up Draco's shoulder, over his neck, to the side of his mouth and then invaded the Slytherin again with the warmth of his tongue. His thrusts were deep and leisurely, Draco's movements matched and his hips shifted to feel Harry's length lodging into him as deeply as he could take him. Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, an easy time in which they shared languid kisses, deep breaths, soft whimpers and unhurried moans.

Draco's back arched as he felt the spark of release start to touch him, causing Harry to increase his speed and enunciate his thrusts. Draco was lost in feeling, in sharing, in being a part of Harry. It was freeing and terrifying. He felt a strangled and startled cry escape his lips as Harry's release warmed and slicked inside of him. Malfoy's orgasm came shortly after, increasing the slipperiness between their conjoined bodies. "Harry... Harry..." he whispered to his lover as Harry trailed kisses over Draco's face and down his neck again. Harry's body fell exhausted next to Draco's; his body was also alight with a dewy coating that glistened in the firelight. After taking a moment to compose himself, Draco turned onto his side and whispered to the spent Gryffindor, "I love you too, Harry. I love you."

Harry felt his chest swell and expand with adoration. He had never felt so loved, cherished, so... wanted and... complete as he did right now. Reaching forward, he pushed Draco's matted platinum locks back from his face and his mouth opened to speak. But instead of his own voice announcing his personal sentiments, something deep, gravelly and evil came out of his strained mouth. His face contorted as he fought desperately for control over what he was saying. But what came out of his mouth wasn't his and the voice that came out wasn't his, nor was it the high, cold pitch of what his mind heard.

His hand lowered and wrapped firmly around Draco's throat and closed in with impossible strength. The confused blond gasped out, "Harry?"

"...Harry?"

" _TRAITOR_!"


	10. Break Me Gently

_And I look, and I see, you could be breaking souls again  
_ \-- The Doves

"You almost killed him!" How Snape managed to get there before Dumbledore was utterly beyond anyone. Madam Pomfrey had sent for both Heads of Houses as well as the Headmaster, but two minutes after the call went out Snape had blustered in like a panicky father as if he'd expected such a summons. Perhaps he had. He seemed almost rehearsed in his accusations of Harry just beyond Draco's bed in a spot that would have been out of earshot had they not been shouting.

"Not intentionally! And it's not-- he can take care of himself," Harry snapped back as he once again ran his fingers over the livid bruise growing on his jaw where the besieged Slytherin had punched him as he struggled for air.

"He shouldn't have to!" Snape argued as he peered back over his shoulder to see Pomfrey smoothing her fingers over Draco's fine flaxen tresses. The boy lay there motionless; his breathing was regular and steady. "Are you sure he's asleep?" the Professor asked.

"So far as I can tell. Most healing potions do have the side effect of drowsiness," she answered. "Although if you keep shouting I imagine he won't be asleep for much longer," she fussed before turning on her heel and heading back to her office to start writing up her diagnosis and course of treatment.

Snape looked at the fair-haired boy in the bed for a moment longer and then turned his glower back onto Harry and snapped over his shoulder, "So long as he's comfortable. Draco doesn't deserve to be in this kind of pain."

Harry had no response to that. It wasn't as if he wanted Draco to hurt. That wasn't even in question. However, Snape's behavioral implication that Harry should leave wasn't affecting him in the least. The stubborn Gryffindor simply crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the Potions Master. "Well if he's sleeping then clearly he's fine," Harry said as his chin moved up to gesture towards Draco. As much as he wanted to continue to give Snape the evil eye, his vision was constantly distracted by his worry for his boyfriend.

Loved him. Draco loved him. He'd said it. Draco Malfoy had said it and in response Harry throttled him. Well, no. It wasn't Harry strangling him, but it was all the same to Draco. Harry couldn't help but stare at Draco's motionless body and wonder if he still did love him. Would he still love Draco if the roles were reversed? The anxiety of the act and the horror and humiliation of what had happened caused Harry to tighten the blanket around his body.

After he felt his fingers clamping down over Draco's larynx, Harry fought hard for control of his body but it was in vain. He was grateful that he and the rival Seeker were of equivalent weights, as it made it easier for Draco to throw Harry off. He couldn't stop thinking about the look of alarmed terror in those bulging grey eyes as the pale boy started to flail. For an appalling moment, Harry saw an almost resigned look on Draco's visage as if he were going to accept his fate as a strangulation victim. But then Draco rallied and his fingers tightened into a ball and his arm pushed into a hard swing and his fist bashed into Harry's jaw. The pain caught Harry's psyche off guard enough that it shook Voldemort's possession of his mind off. Once in control, the brunette recoiled from the gasping blond.

_The infirmary. They had to get to the infirmary._ Harry was desperate enough to get them to the infirmary that the Room of Requirement responded immediately. Later Potter would reflect that it would have been helpful to know the previous year that the enchanted room had the power to transport you to different locations. Even though it was fantastic to be there so quickly, it left both boys naked on a cot and thrashing about covered in sweat and each other's emissions. The lovers were flush with humiliation for participating in such a scene before Madam Pomfrey, but she simply walked in, assessed the situation and distributed blankets for the boys to cover themselves with.

Pomfrey asked no questions at first but instead tended to Draco's trachea noting aloud that often such injuries were tricky and needed treatment immediately. Harry gradually backed away to allow her space to work as he soothingly rubbed at the tender spot on his jaw. By the time she'd finished hovering over the Slytherin, Draco's eyes were shut and he was breathing regularly as if dozing. Harry started forward to stand by Draco as he gave Pomfrey the explanation of his possession, only to be waved off by the nurse who cast a quick glance at Potter's jaw and handed him a cold compress and a cream for a the discomfort and muttered that she needed to send for the headmaster.

"I just have one question, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled.

Harry's green eyes peered back toward Snape and he gave a nod.

"Did he know?"

"Know what, sir?"

"Did he know this could happen?"

"What could happen?" Harry asked insolently.

"Mr. Potter, did you tell Draco of your connection to the Dark Lord?"

Harry looked down.

"Did you? Did you warn him what he'd be risking in being with you? Did you BOTHER to inform him what might happen? Did you explain that he might be seen? Did you take any precautions at all?" Snape badgered on. He moved closer to Harry, bearing down on the boy with his arms crossed. Snape's colorless sneer grew more menacing with each step.

Closing his eyes, Harry shook his head that he hadn't. He hadn't said a word. But how could he explain to Snape that they didn't talk much? That as involved as they were physically they just hadn't gotten to that point... or to any real point where talking was concerned?

"You just let him walk into this? Blind-sided? Frightened? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!" Snape snapped as he slammed both of his hands on Harry's shoulders and shook the boy angrily.

In response, Harry's hands flew up to Snape's pasty digits digging into his arm and he grabbed them tightly as he jerked away. "YOU NEVER FINISHED MY OCCLUMENCY LESSONS! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Snape drew back and was quaking with rage as he glared into Harry's reddened face. "You stupid, insolent little fool! Are you going to use me as an excuse for all of your problems? To escape all of your _responsibilities_? You're arrogant and pompous and you're so lackadaisical as to allow these things to happen to people who love you. People around you don't just die... you KILL them with your thoughtlessness, you supercilious irritating little-"

Harry had drawn his wand and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle as the wild magicks that often escaped with his rising temper began to swarm around him. Likewise, Snape pulled his own wand looking all too eager to finally dual his troublesome student. The Gryffindor's mouth opened as he started to seriously believe he had enough anger to make the Cruciatus Curse work when his wand flew away as an old and familiar voice bellowed, "Expelliarmus."

Collecting the wands from the air, Dumbledore shook his head at them both; he was unsure of which of the two he was more disappointed by. Behind him, Professor McGonagall looked sheepish as she observed Harry huddled under a blanket and the young Slytherin dozing on a cot a few yards away. Once the pair was disarmed, she stalked forward to an ashamed Harry and stood behind him to gape at Snape who had not relinquished his glowering at the youth.

"Severus," Dumbledore said to lure the potion Professor's attention away from the Gryffindor. "I apologize that it took so long for me to get here. I was required to inform the Ministry of this situation. Once apprised of it, they felt it was important to check on the state of Draco's family. I was regretfully informed that Narcissa Malfoy was--"

"Mum?" a small and gasping voice cried out desperately from across the room. To emphasize his displeasure with what he knew Dumbledore was about to announce to the room, Draco's head shook back and forth as his pained eyes begged for the older man not to say it. His mother? She'd never done anything! She didn't even know Draco was seeing anyone... that he was with a boy... that... "No." he whispered again and then pulled his pale hands up to his face as his shoulders shook.

"I'm afraid so, Draco," Dumbledore uttered. "She has... passed on," he said. After a moment of silence as they all took this in he added, "Murdered."

"What? Murdered?" Harry screeched in his incredulity as McGonagall reached up to pat his back gently. "Why?"

"Likely to punish Draco and perhaps also to goad his father. Lucius is still in Azkaban and is unscathed. It is hard to say exactly what treachery lies within the hearts of people so cold, it is-"

"She... never did... anything... to anyone!" Draco half wailed and half gasped out. Professor Snape glared at Harry for a moment more before turning in a mass of swirling robes to attend to the boy he regarded as a son.

"It is a great loss, but not one anyone could have-" the headmaster started.

"Potter knew the risks, he gambled with Draco's life and now..." Snape turned his furious eyes over to Harry as Draco leaned in to push his mottled, bawling face into the murky fabric of the man's robes. "You thoughtless, useless boy! You've killed his _MOTHER_!" Snape spat toxically at Harry. Draco let out another low moan against him and sobbed pathetically for his mother.

Draco loved his mother, perhaps even more so than his father. He found her to have a wicked wit and a keen intelligence. She was feisty and not at all the limp housewife that most took her for. Narcissa was manipulative and iniquitous to her enemies, but she took faultless care of her son. She always made sure that he had proper food for his sensitive palette rather than the vile leavings that constituted meals at Hogwarts. How the most perfect woman ever to grace this world had been worthy of being murdered was wholly beyond him.

Despite Snape's barbs, Harry wanted to be the one comforting Draco and so he started towards the boy on the cot. "Haven't you done enough?" Snape hissed to Harry.

"I didn't mean to... I didn't think-" Harry started.

"That's precisely it, isn't it? You didn't think? Now look at what you've done. Wasn't it bad enough that you deprived _yourself_ of parents, now you would take the succor of family from someone you profess to love?" queried Snape in irritation.

"That is enough, Severus," Dumbledore stated simply as he raised an index finger up and gestured in a sideways motion as if to clear the air of any further rapport that involved blame. "Though we may feel sorrow for what was and what might have been, we must now deal with what there is. What has happened," he said sagely.

Draco's sniffles echoed through the stone room but it was evident even by the sound that he was trying to master himself. He hated public outpouring of emotions, but after the roller coaster he'd been on with the fright of having Harry pin him down, his post coitus confession of love that resulted in nearly losing his life, and now this. The Slytherin boy felt betrayal beset with pain and longing and on some level the realization that perhaps his father was right. Love weakened you. Love made you do and say stupid things. And love, in turn, really hurt. Although he'd believed it would have been in a figurative sense, this had been thus far pretty literal.

The truth of it was, Draco hadn't been asleep. The potion had made him slightly drowsy which had given him the idea of feigning sleep. At first it was simply to avoid having to look Harry in the eye. He knew that Harry wanted to be there for him, but what could the Gryffindor do or say to make it better? And what would Draco say in response? "That's all right, Harry, loads of people strangle their lovers after sex. There, there."

The pale Slytherin was frightened. He'd never understood that Harry was in any way connected to Voldemort. At first the teen had felt guilty for not sticking up for his lover when Snape had gone at him. But the more he'd listened to the banter between them, the more he was learning. It hadn't been Harry who had attacked him. Granted, Draco hadn't thought it was, but he had no idea who it was calling him a traitor. Now that at least made more sense, although he felt deceived that Harry hadn't mentioned the possibility of Voldemort's intrusion. It made the suspicious Slytherin begin to wonder just how much the Dark Lord had seen. But that wasn't a place his mind really wanted to go. Ever.

Then there were the abandoned the Occlumency lessons. That must have been what remedial potions had been. He remembered mocking the fact that Harry had needed them. Despite that clearly he did need them. But Malfoy also noticed that the brunette had never actually improved in his potion's class performance. Now that made sense. Snape had never uttered a word about what had really been going on in spite of Draco's nearly nightly prodding. Up until his own affair with the Golden Boy, Draco suspected that something rather untoward might be going on between Snape and Potter.

After a long silence in which Draco finally stopped sobbing and Harry broke away from McGonagall to get close enough to take up one of the pale boy's hands, Dumbledore said, "Harry shall obviously have to continue with his Occlumency lessons."

"I must decline. Despite the fact of Potter's clear breech of trust with me, it would seem that he can be broken through and it would compromise my position as being a spy for the Order," Snape muttered. Still, given what had happened, the dark-clad man tried to resign himself to having to resume the lessons.

"I was rather thinking your protege..." Dumbledore said as he gestured beyond Snape.

Harry's hand tightened around Draco's as he started to bob and weave his head to peer around the potion master's body to look at his lover, wanting to confirm via eye contact that Draco could actually do such a thing.

Since Draco's father's incarceration and Snape's subsequent counseling of the boy, it had occurred to the both of them that it would be handy for Draco to be able to shield his thoughts. Whether he would use this for good or for ill was up to him. The Slytherin head of house had firmly believed that Draco would come around and could accompany him as a spy for the Order. He had been mentoring him for months, teaching him both Occlumency and Legilimency. Unlike Potter, Draco had a natural power of concentration and the enviable position of not having a megalomaniac despot trying desperately to fight his way into his mind.

Also in contrast to Potter, Malfoy had never invaded the Pensieve on Snape's desk and had remained respectful despite the pain of the lessons and the splitting headaches he would often endure. The fair-haired boy had been an apt pupil, although clearly he hadn't had the experience and testing that the ashen potions bully had endured. The elder Slytherin had also been much more patient with Draco in his instruction practicing with him more like a sympathetic father. It was not inconceivable that Draco could teach Harry what he knew, and in reality he was likely the only one with the ability who was in a position to. Should Voldemort see him, well he was already compromised.

"I don't think that's a good idea, he's already tried to kill Draco once. And now Draco has lost his mother to Potter's ineptitude, it's not fair to-" Snape started to complain.

"I'll do it," Draco croaked out. The room remained hushed for a moment, all eyes on all they could see of Draco, which was his pale hand conjoined with Harry's.

"That isn't necessary, Draco, I'll-" Snape said again, ready to volunteer to protect the youth.

"No. I want to. They killed my mother... they... he... I... please," he whispered as he leaned to one side. Snape turned, finally exposing the blotchy and pinched face of the boy. There were still crescent shaped nail marks on his throat along with red finger bruises that made Harry wince in recognition of his grisly deed. The Gryffindor ached with the knowledge of what he'd done, and yet, as he looked up at the heir of Malfoy, he wished he would look at him. He wanted to reassure Draco and for Draco to reassure him. His green eyes scanned the Slytherin's face, but the grey eyes remained elusive.

"Very well then. Severus, I shall ask you to provide them a space to meet. Twice weekly. Be close at hand, but do not intrude, no matter how necessary you may think it is," Dumbledore warned.

Snape turned his back on Dumbledore and peered down at Draco, who looked up into the inky blackness of his mentor's eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

The flaxen-haired teen nodded to him and let out a long breath of air. "I have to. I want to. I... I need to," he finished. "They stole... He stole my mother from me. I need to be a part of ending him."

Though Harry was wounded that Draco didn't mention him, he couldn't exactly blame the Slytherin and merely squeezed his hand in thanks. At long last, Draco turned his visage towards the unwilling hero. In that instant, Harry wished he hadn't met his gaze. There was such sorrow, acquiescence and flat coldness in those ominous grey eyes. "Draco..."

" _Malfoy,_ " the blond growled frostily through his sneer.


	11. Disarm

Draco Malfoy had always been known as a cunning boy. The Sorting Hat had known in an instant where to place him, but it seemed that the rest of the house had, for the moment, forgotten. News of Narcissa's death and the reasons behind it had traveled speedily amongst the Slytherins. Owls traveled furiously from worried parents telling their children not to associate themselves with the Draco. He was a traitor. A blood traitor-- and his mother had paid the price.

There was never an exact count on how many of his housemates had ganged up on Draco that fateful night, the first that the boy had spent in Slytherin since recovering from Potter's possessed strangulation. Malfoy would never tell who all had assaulted him, but there were no less than a half dozen witches and wizards that had been temporarily blinded from whatever dark hex that Draco had unleashed before he was disarmed, stunned and had most of his bones systematically broken. Madam Pomfrey's assertions that he was "lucky to be alive" were met with his wry sneer as she gave him potions to mend his bones. Lucky, because at this moment life had so much to offer him.

It took some doing to figure out where in the school to put Malfoy. He clearly couldn't go back to Slytherin. Snape had offered to allow the boy into his room, but Dumbledore pointed out that it would compromise his cover to be seen acting partial to the estranged Malfoy. Not to mention that it would seem untoward to have him staying with a professor. For the moment it didn't matter, as Draco had to stay in the sickbay under constant supervision from Madam Pomfrey. He was given a temporary room with several wards that kept everyone but the staff from visiting him.

Only one student was allowed to visit Draco, the only student that he'd asked to see. Gregory Goyle. When the large boy lumbered out of the infirmary, his face was red and his eyes puffy. He hadn't cried, but he appeared to want to. Harry, who had been keeping a silent and invisible vigil in front of the hospital door, hopped up and chased after Goyle until they were far enough away he didn't think he'd get caught.

"What did he say?" Harry asked after unfurling the robe and grabbing Goyle by the elbow.

The large boy jumped and then whipped around to peer down at the comparatively diminutive boy questioning him. "Where did you come from?"

"Never mind that, Goyle. What did Draco say to you?"

"I... he..." Goyle's face pinched up in a contortion of mixed emotions before he let out a breath and finally confessed. "He said he can't be my friend anymore. He says it's not me, he likes me and all, but that it's dangerous. I might get killed."

" So you weren't one of the students who attacked him?"

"Naw. I wasn't even there or I'd've helped him. He's my friend."

Harry appeared somewhat incredulous. "Friend?"

Goyle gave Harry a perplexed look and his brows furrowed. "Malfoy asked that, too. If it were just me-- but he said my mum and da could get hurt," he said and then he looked around the hall and leaned in. "I'm going to keep my ears open for him, though. Nott reckons he's gonta take over. That made Malfoy laugh. And then he said he was a missy-trope who couldn't direct strong winds in a hurricane."

"Missy-trope?"

"I didn't know that word neither. It means someone who don't get along with other people," Goyle assured Harry.

_Misanthrope._ Harry thought, but simply smiled and patted Goyle's shoulder. All at once he realized he was patting Goyle's shoulder. The boy was talking to him and as surprising as it was that Goyle could construct sentences, it was even more unusual that he wasn't cracking his knuckles at Harry or trying to be intimidating. "Right. So, do you understand what happened, Goyle?"

"Not really. He was involved with you like I want to be involved with Bullstrode, he told me. I don't get how. You're a boy. But he said that you found ways," Goyle said dumbly and then rubbed his large fist into his forehead as if this were too much work for his brain. "I reckon he still likes you some, though he said he didn't. Malfoy's like that. He says one thing but acts another way a lot. He asked if people were planning on hurting ya, and if I heard something to tell him or help you or whatnot. But he says he don't like you. But I can tell. He's not so smart when it comes to stuff like that. He can't fool me." At this, Goyle gave a broad and proud smile and thumped his huge thumb against his massive chest.

Harry gave him a pleasant but perplexed smile. Could it be true? He certainly wanted to believe that Draco still loved him, but how? After everything that happened... but still, here was Goyle saying it. Then again, Goyle wasn't known for being insightful. Giving the hefty boy a curt nod he said, "I hope you're right, Goyle. I hope you're right."

 

 

It had taken some doing but Dumbledore managed to get Andromeda Tonks named as Draco's temporary guardian. Despite the fact that Draco did have a living parent in Azkaban, for legal purposes, the boy was an orphan. Keeping him as a ward of the school wasn't impossible, but being that he had a side of the family that would look out for his best interests ensured that the beleaguered Slytherin wouldn't be withdrawn from Hogwarts.

This was the information that Professor Snape was passing along to Draco as he sat across from the man at his desk waiting for Harry to arrive for his first new Occlumency lesson. The worried Gryffindor hesitantly opened the oversized door and peered around it to make sure there wasn't a nasty surprise waiting for him on the other side. Indeed, all he saw was the back of Malfoy's head and a very agitated Snape looking as close to the emotion of concern as he'd ever seen on the older man's face.

"I am afraid that Dumbledore is concerned that if you stay in Slytherin, or with me as I had asked him," Snape announced to Draco pointedly to let him know that he'd tried to keep himself close to the boy, and in fact was wishing to share living space with him. "That it would put me in conflict with the Dark Lord's wishes. Such information would get back to him through any number of channels and I would be useless to the Order provided I was even suffered to live."

"I understand," Malfoy responded. His voice sounded strained, hurt and tired. He turned around to face Harry. His features were pallid and the skin under his eyes was dark and blotchy. Malfoy was worn down, savaged with worry and although Harry knew Draco had been _sleeping_ , it was clear he hadn't gotten any rest. "Potter."

The sneer on Draco's face was off putting even though it was halfhearted and not filled with the arrogance that Harry was accustomed to. The cocksureness had been kicked out of him and the difference took Harry's breath away.

Though he hadn't been attacked physically, Harry hadn't fared much better.

Disgusted enough with the idea that his best mate was gay, that he'd been dallying with Malfoy was beyond the pale as far as Ron was concerned. In fact, all of Harry's roommates had been rather cold to him. Hermione seemed to be trying to understand, but her wounds with Malfoy cut entirely too deeply for her to be neutral on the issue. The situation gave Ron a much-needed excuse to spend more time with the Muggle-born and it appeared that they were dating.

It wasn't the first time that Harry had felt abandoned and friendless. He was pretty sure this wouldn't be the last. At least it made his nighttime vigils in front of the hospital easier to accomplish. No one asked where he was going. No one cared that he was gone. It was disheartening but not altogether unexpected. In the end it was just another ramification of his choice that he hadn't really considered when he'd made it. The blows seemed to sting less and less now. Potter was getting used to it.

To keep from violating his promise to Dumbledore, Snape stood, gave a curt bow to the boys and made his way out to his private chambers. " _Colloportus_ ," Draco called out after him to each of the doors to keep anyone from just wandering in. Locking doors behind him was nowa useful habit.

Draco didn't want to appear relieved to see Harry, or happy about it in the least. So the Slytherin folded his arms and cast his eyes downward with an extreme force of will. Given all that had happened it would have been nice to have someone to talk to, but Harry was the cause of it and he just couldn't let that go.

"How have you been?" Harry asked, wanting to break the silence and hoping that Draco would allow him to open a dialogue.

"Do you mean other than being throttled by you, having my mother murdered over our affair, being attacked and outted by my own house and having to force what few people that would like to stay in my life away? Oh, smashing, Potter." He refused to meet Harry's gaze.

Trying to overlook the goading, Harry said, "Ron and Hermione aren't talking to me much either. None of the Gryffindors are."

"Aww," Draco mocked, lifting his head up and tilting it to the side. He looked towards Harry, but just off to the left of him at a point far away.

The glare made Harry feel even less significant than the placating vocalisation. "They're my friends."

"Some friends. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be noble. Look beyond faults. Stick together. Although I can't exactly blame them for not wanting to associate with _you_ , who knows whose life you'll ruin next. It would be such a tragedy if the world were minus two dentists," Draco snapped as he continued to look at a spot on the wall.

"That's really harsh, Malfoy," Harry answered, feeling extremely frustrated with the way this talk was going. "Hermione's taken loads of risks for me. The fact that I was with _you_ hurts her. You hurt her. I know she'll come around. As far as Voldemort is concerned, her parents are always in danger. As are the Weasleys." Reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he paused for emphasis. He wanted Draco to _really think about_ what he was going to say. "They're angry because _I love you_. They know I love you and that I want to be with you and they don't like you. If you'd just be civil to them-"

After flinching at the Dark Lord's name, Malfoy broke out in a cruel laughter and shook his head as his focus fled to the ceiling. "Love? Is that what you think you feel for me? You think this is about love? I loved my mother, Potter. She was everything to me and now I've lost her. Lost her because of _you_. You dare to say that you _love_ me? What would _you_ know about it?"

Harry was in equal parts stung and angered by what Draco said. "That is _it_ , Malfoy. I've tried to be nice about this because of your loss and because I do care about you despite what you seem to believe. But if you're going to go around blaming people then look at yourself. It's true I didn't tell you what could happen; you and Snape have a point there. Then again, when did you let me talk? When was I supposed to let you in on this big dark secret? Should I have shouted it out while you were blowing me?"

"You didn't talk about things like that! You were asking me about my childhood or trying to let me in on things I shouldn't know about-"

"This would've been _one of those things_ , you cut me off-"

"You knew what this thing was, Potter and how deadly it could be but it didn't stop-"

"I didn't want to stop it, I wanted _you_ , and I still-"

"STOP IT, SHUT UP!" Malfoy shrieked as he put his hands up in front of him, pale fingers splayed to halt the argument. Deep down, he knew Harry was right. It wasn't his fault that this happened. There were just some things that hit too close to home. It took too much out of him to think about his part in his own mother's demise.

"What's done is done, it doesn't matter why. However, if Snape had kept up my Occlu-" Harry attempted.

Draco cleared his throat and shook his head. "Let's just get this over with, all right? Snape's done the best that he could by me. I don't want to hear you blame him for your nosiness."

It was interesting to Harry that evidently Snape told him why his original Occlumency lessons had stopped. He was a bit taken aback by this information and he felt a pang of jealousy at the closeness of the two. Unlike Dumbledore, who had often given Harry little winks as he passed him by going to Draco's private room at the infirmary, Snape couldn't see through the invisibility cloak. Harry knew just how often the Potions master visited Draco versus how many times he simply passed by the hospital to catch a glance or to make sure nothing was going on. Perhaps it was teenaged hormonal jealousy, but Harry was growing uneasy with Snape's affiliation with what he thought of as his lover.

"Right then," Harry said as he withdrew his wand and watched Draco move to the other side of Snape's desk. "Let's get started." With any luck, Harry could push back into Draco's mind as he'd done with Snape before and find out just what the relationship meant to him.

Taking a moment to center and clear his thoughts, Draco looked at the floor and then drew his wand. He took a deep breath and then flourished his wand with a strict, "Legilimens!"

Any thoughts Harry had entertained about Draco being any easier to keep at bay withered as the spell hit him. The fierce heat in his scar caused him to scream in agony. Harry pulled up both hands to slap over his face, trying desperately to pull himself out of the mind spiral Draco was forcing him into. It was impossible to steel his mind against this or regain control. Draco Malfoy was in his mind, pushing through anomalous memories of Weasley jumpers and snowball fights to get to the very recollections Harry didn't want him to see. And unlike Snape, Draco did it with a pubescent and careless maliciousness. He didn't just want to know these things; he wanted Harry to hurt. So Harry did all he really could do at that point. He let Malfoy take it.

Abruptly plunged into the Gryffindor's darkest reminiscences, it took a moment for Draco to regain his bearings. He was outside of the infirmary, watching people pass him by. No one seemed to notice him at all. Except for Dumbledore. He was terribly worried about Draco. How badly had the Slytherins hurt him? It was completely his fault. He should have told him. But how? He didn't know when he could've mentioned it. Still, Draco's mother was dead and it was his fault. How did Voldemort get into his head? That had only happened before because Voldemort was close. Was he close now? Was another student pulling a Quirrell with the Dark Lord on the back of his head? No, Voldemort had a body now. Maybe he was posing as a teacher? Maybe he'd spring out and kill-

It took a few disorienting moments for Draco to figure out he was replaying Harry's thoughts. Harry was outside of the infirmary? Malfoy didn't know how to feel about this. He knew that Harry believed that he loved him, but these actions, these concerns of his proved it. In spite of his frustrated anger, Draco was touched that Harry was watching over him. His mind scanned over those memories, perusing all of Harry's petty concerns and just how angry with himself he was over Draco's suffering. Then there was this tiny thought. It was elusive and appeared like a white moth. The Slytherin gave chase but couldn't quite capture it. Draco felt very close to catching the moth, very near the realization when he was snapped back and away from the dangerous idea.

He was in a closet-- no it was the cupboard. A slice of light illuminated a section of his youthful face. He was peering desperately out of the crack, afraid not just because he was alone, but because he was certain there were monsters about. Monsters his cousin had told him about that would attack young boys found alone. His green eyes sought out as much light as they could. The family had finished dinner and Petunia and Vernon were watching one last program before bed. He felt spiders on him. There was something in the cupboard he could just feel it! He cried out with great big wailing sobs against the door, his chubby hands started to batter at the wood in a shrill panic over creatures unknown. There were no coos of comfort. No kisses on the forehead. Instead, the Dursleys spitefully shut off the television and turned off all of the lights, leaving him in complete blackness alone with his nightmares.

Forcibly, Draco extracted himself from that excruciating memory. He knew Harry had grown up in the cupboard, but somehow it hadn't been clear to him what all that entailed. It wasn't just cramped-- it was terrifying and inhuman. He shuddered involuntarily at the chill of Harry's frightened bawling; the experience had been almost enough to make him withdraw completely from Harry's mind. Almost. But there was still that nagging memory, the fluttering moth just beyond his reach. Something Harry didn't want Draco to see. The Golden Boy was desperate that no one know this particular thought, and Draco was determined to know it now. So he pushed.

Harry allowed Draco to scan through his childhood, reawakening memories he'd tried hard to repress. Draco was privy to the taunting about buggery that had vexed Harry's sexual relationship with him. He even saw the young girl of eight who explained to Harry patiently, as they were both hiding in a privet hedge on school grounds during recess, just what buggery was. She was Harry's first real friend that hadn't been chased off by the bullies, as she was just as peculiar as the scruffy boy. Then Draco saw the sad day when Harry, after not seeing her for nearly a week, broke down and asked where she had gone only to find out that her parents had moved her to a school where she wouldn't be as harassed. Little Peggy's parents loved her. Harry's family did not. Harry was chased up trees; found mysteriously on the roof... the memories went on and on until Draco again caught the echo of fluttering wings of that elusive thought.

With an aggressive eagerness, Draco chased the thought as passionately as if it were a golden Snitch, landing in the memory of his cousin's death. Sirius Black's body formed a graceful arc and was dragged into a stone cave blocked by a veil. He was screaming to get to Sirius, restrained by Remus as he fought to get out of his clutching arms clutching. _No. NO! NO!_ It wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening! His mind flashed briefly to Cedric's death, then back to this, then down to his tanned and calloused fingers wrapped around a pale boy's neck. "I love you," Harry's thoughts rang out, but frighteningly, his fingers were throttling the boy he loved.

_Oh no. Not again. Not again_ , chanted Harry's subconscious. And then the thought was there. He was in the presence of the sought-after thought. The elusive moth was fluttering in his hand.

_I want to die. I want this to be over with._

It wasn't that Harry was suicidal. Taking his own life would mean Voldemort had won. Harry loved his friends and loved the world too much to just let it go because of irrational teen angst. Rather, he truly believed that the result of this war would be his death. He'd take Voldemort with him if he died, of that he had absolutely no doubt. Whether he would survive that battle, he didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. The pessimistic side of him made a compelling case that he wouldn't. So, he believed it. He would die, but _that_ wasn't what frightened him. _That_ didn't bother him. _That_ didn't wake him up in the night in a cold sweat. What Harry feared most of all was who he would have to watch die next. Would it be Ron or Hermione? Draco? Dumbledore? Remus? He didn't want to lose another friend or loved one.

Dumbledore was right. People Harry loved became targets. Each time Harry extended a hand to someone, it was a risk. They might die, and Harry would lose. Though Harry understood that, he hadn't been allowing himself to think that way when it came to Draco. He'd been such a walking zombie, paralyzed by the fear of who would die next. Draco's advances had shocked him back to life. Interactions with his former rival were something to look forward to. Draco was someone to save, someone with flaws who didn't see Harry as a saviour, but rather as just another an annoying git. In the end, Harry knew that above anyone else, Draco saw _Harry Potter_ and was unimpressed by _the boy who lived._

The odd revelations of just how much Harry loved Draco and needed him coupled with the idea that Harry had been welcoming death broke his concentration and the connection was lost. Both boys panted in the chilly stone room, the sound reverberated off of the walls in a disturbing dissonant din just above the silence. Gradually, Draco looked down at Harry who was still on his knees, peering up at him with his astonishing green eyes, made that much more brilliant by the red rims of his eyelids. Draco's elegant hand fluttered up to his own face to brush away what he believed were strands of his hair only to find his hand wet from his own overflow of emotions.

Keeping their eyes locked, Draco clenched his jaw and flexed it as Harry glared up at him with the hurt and anger of the recently mind-raped. For a moment, Draco simply looked away, thinking, wanting to apologise. Then again, Draco needed to have seen what was locked in Harry's mind. There were things that Harry would have never been able to express in words even if he were more eloquent than he was. Because of this, but still with much reluctance, Draco's eyes roved back to Harry's miserably betrayed visage and spoke, "Your turn."


	12. Don't

Harry rubbed his head irritably and blinked back the next few tears attempting to fall and then rearranged his glasses onto his face. Licking his lips as he laggardly pulled himself off of his knees, his green eyes flared at Malfoy as he brushed off his trousers. "My turn? My turn for what, Malfoy? I never learned Legilimency. I've only ever blocked it. That time I got into Snape's head was a fluke with my casting of Protego," Harry snapped.

"You have enough magic in you. Just cast the spell."

"Even so I won't get anything but your surface thoughts."

"And I'll push things to the surface."

"So I see what you want me to see," Harry observed.

"Basically."

"I didn't get that option," the Gryffindor pointed out.

"Oh, well, if you can become an expert in Legilimency in the next two minutes to make it fair then by all means--"

"Look--"

Draco held up his hand to stop Harry's oncoming impassioned speech. "I'll put up everything I can think of that pained me. I know it's not the same. I can't do anything about that. I did what I did to you and it's done. I'm doing the best I can to even it out."

After taking in a deep breath, Harry let it out in a loud huff. As much as it galled him, Draco did have a point. Whether Malfoy knew it or not, Harry had once pushed back into Snape's mind, something he'd thought he could do to Draco. If the Potions Master had told Draco about the Pensieve, he figured he must've told him about that. If not, this may actually be a fair tradeoff. "Fine."

Giving a quick nod, Draco slipped his wand into the pocket of his robes and held up his hands to demonstrate that he wasn't going to fight Harry at all. A graceful hand flitted up to his forehead and paused to wipe the thin veil of sweat from his efforts in violating Potter's memories and then he eyed the rival Seeker.

Harry clenched his teeth and flourished his wand. Imitating what he'd seen Malfoy and Snape do, he repeated, "Legilimens," and was transported.

On the dark wood molding of the windowsill sits a cooing cinnamon diamond dove. With an easy grace, Draco slowly set his book down onto his writing table and approached the frightened bird. Tilting his head to the side he observed that the wing was bent at an awkward angle. He looked back at the closed door of his room; his father was meeting with someone important from the Ministry or the brotherhood or' who knew.

The eight-year-old wasn't allowed to leave his bedroom when there were guests in the house. It was for his protection. His eyes roved the spacious enclosure for a suitable nest and he decided to sacrifice his inlaid "treasure chest." Draco dumped out the contents, a few totems and other trinkets of slithering silver dragon jewelry. A young boy would have no real use for these items but he was nevertheless awarded them. With a tenderness that surprised even Harry, the prepubescent blond slipped his fingers under the bird and moved her carefully onto the satin padding inside of the box. Snapping a rather expensive quill and using one of the laces from one of his costly shoes, he crafted a splint for the pained animal.

Harry wasn't sure what the significance of this memory was. It seemed rather a nice memory and he started to suspect that perhaps Draco was attempting to sell himself as charitable to the Gryffindor. About to abandon this attempt in disgust, the looming figure of Lucius Malfoy crossed his vision and he could feel the tendrils of creeping dread building in Draco's memory.

Harry sensed a couple of weeks had passed before Lucius apprehended Draco in the hallway in front of his bedroom door. Brusquely, the patriarch questioned the cowering boy about why he wasn't in his room. The younger Malfoy tried to hide the seeds he'd secreted away from the pantry. However, his father was too keen and quick for the childish attempt at diversion. Peering at the seeds suspiciously, the older man barged into Draco's room. It didn't take long to track down the chirruping bird.

The alarm of his father's discovery radiated through Harry and he could feel the horrific desperation from Draco to keep the bird safe. She had become his friend and kept him company, giving him comfort while his parents were so busy. The dove was Draco's first real friend.

"Draco, this is a foul and common animal. We do not have foul animals in our home," Lucius chastised.

"No, she's clean... she cleaned herself, and I washed her in the sink," he pointed out, indicating the still-wet tufts of feathers. The quicksilver eyes of the precocious child shone hopefully at his father as he went on. "I named her Ophelia and I read a book on domestic doves and so she should have a pair but I guess she doesn't and she seems lonely and she's been really good," Draco pleaded, watching his father's expression steel.

Draco wasn't pleading his case well enough and his new friend's life was on the line. "She's quiet, you haven't heard a -ha-ha- peep, get it?" he tried recklessly to joke his way out of it.

"It's a filthy street abomination, Draco. You may not keep it."

"But I love her, father. She's my... my... she's mine! And she keeps me company and I think I can teach her to talk and'"

His father holding up a hand stilled Draco, " _Love_ her."

"Oh yes, father!"

"You _love_ this loathsome monstrosity? This despoiled beast?"

"Yes! She's my pet! I love her so, so much and I've been keeping her and cleaning her and'"

"This squalid creature is not worthy of your _love,_ " Lucius hissed, spitting the l-word out like venom. "And your attachment to it blinds you to what it is. It is a filthy animal, Draco. Disgusting. End it."

"What?" Draco asked in shock.

"End its life. You have to learn."

"Learn how to... kill?"

"Yes, you'll need to know that as well. But more importantly, you must learn not to allow your empathy to control you. You saw this beast and you knew you should put it out of its misery, but you brought it inside. You claim to love it. Who could love such a thing?"

"I- she's my... my... Ophelia!" Draco squalled.

Lucius placed his hand on Draco's shoulder shoved the youngster towards the makeshift nest. The black-eyed dove bobbed and weaved her head nervously as she watched the tense interaction. Draco wondered if Ophelia knew what was going to happen. Could she tell by his tear-streaked face? His little heart broke as he sobbed and slid his fingers over her speckled feathers to soothe her. As tame as she was, clearly she was someone's escaped hand-trained hen. He'd been sleeping with her in his bed, curled around the nest she'd settled into so she wouldn't be scared. And as Draco's heart broke, so did Harry's as he felt what the boy intended to do.

What bothered Harry the most wasn't the uncomfortable crack of the bird's neck and Draco's hysterical screaming at what he'd done followed up by Lucius coldly leaving the room so that the youth might finish his "dramatic display." What bothered Harry was that somewhere in Malfoy's breaking heart, he'd made room for the possibility that his father was right. Love did hurt. It had hurt Draco with the dove and it upset him now that he was with Harry. Aside from all of that, the young Slytherin, though he detested the method of the teaching, fully believed that his father had done it for his own good. His own good? Harry didn't have much good parenting to compare it to, but he was pretty sure that Lucius Malfoy could have explained this message without this merciless murder of not only an innocent bird, but of an innocent heart.

Taking a moment to consider this, Harry waited for the next memory for his perusal. Mind games were Malfoy's forte. It shouldn't have surprised Harry that Draco could control this domain so effortlessly. Try as Harry might to push beyond Draco's boundaries, he had never practiced Legilimency and was weak. The Gryffindor's magic was just enough to get him a ticket, but not nearly enough to force himself into getting a backstage pass. So he looked over the flitting memories as Draco thought them.

Narcissa laughing, giggling at Draco's antics as his father looks on trying not to appear amused. His mother. Harry could feel the warmth and fondness for the woman and the memories seemed to ripple in a sunny golden hue as he relived the good times with her. Sneaking him out of his room so they could escape to the candy store. Shopping. Playing cards. Drinking tea. Mocking passersby.

And then Draco's father is bellowing at him about his poor grades in Herbology. Harry sees that the truth about his poor grades in that subject was because he didn't like getting dirty.

_You bully other students to do your work in Herbology because you're too much of a ponce to touch dirt?_

_I could kick you out right now, Potter. And you're missing the point._

Draco is shifting in his chair as his father lectures him about Mudbloods. This is not fresh news. Throughout his life Draco overheard his father's rants to his friends, his mother, and to him thousands of times. But now it is directed at him. The elder Malfoy was shaming him and comparing him unfavorably to a Mudblood. The frizzy haired Gryffindor and people of her paltry bloodline were whom he's been bred and indoctrinated to detest. Draco sits dejectedly in his chair.

Narcissa wants to comfort her only son. As much as she wants him to succeed and as much as she knows that the boy can do better, seeing Draco looking so distraught tugs at her soul. But Lucius announces Draco doesn't deserve love and comfort, he is a failure to himself, to purebloods, and to his family name. "The world won't give him love when he fails, and he will fail if you coddle him, Narcissa. Neither will this household."

The vision shifted to Lucius Malfoy's fierce glower when despite the brooms he bought for Slytherin, Harry Potter caught the snitch.

Draco was timid around girls, but his father constantly prodded. One night during one of their many parties in the Malfoy Manor, Lucius had brought in what he had thought was a beautiful woman. She was gorgeous, but older. Intimidated, Draco sat on his bed and stared at her as she removed his clothing and fondled his shrinking manhood. She cackled that he was unable to perform. His father, still in the room, hissed angrily at him and cast an engorgement charm. Draco's first time was a near-rape in his own room with his father looking on. In an attempt to keep his father uninvolved in his sex life after that traumatic experience, Draco fornicated indiscriminately. He made sure the news got back to his father who was pleased his son wasn't getting "too attached" to anyone. Love is weakness.

Most of Draco's memories are about being bored and alone. There are worlds of books to read and every toy he'd ever wanted, but no one to play with, no one to talk to.

Finally, Draco's mind shifted to what he'd mentally intoned to be his worst memory. The wispy Slytherin was lying on the bed in the Room of Requirement. He felt undersized and dense. His body shook with sentiments he couldn't quite handle and vocalized words that he had vowed he would never speak to another human being with meaning. But he loved Harry. He knew that. He loved the silly Gryffindor so much that it pained him. Deep inside, his chest ached heavily with longing. Harry filled the void that his father had left and beyond. Potter wasn't saddled with Draco. He wasn't obligated to be with him. The brunet chose Draco. Harry wanted him. Wanted Draco Malfoy above all others. And so his tongue lapped thickly at his lips puffy from kissing and after screwing up his courage spoke, "I love you."

Malfoy wasn't sure if he was ready to hear those words spoken back to him but he craved them. He needed them. Draco had never in his life felt so uncertain, so wide open. Then something shifted in Harry and words stopped making sense. Draco's neck felt raw and his face flushed as his throat was constricted. It was a trick! It wasn't real! None of it was real. The whole thing was a test. It was another test Draco failed. He botched this test because he was in love. Harry wasn't in love with him. He never had been. It was a nightmare. Though the victim felt the pressure on his neck, the severe compression of his heart was a million times more restrictive and for a moment Draco didn't think he could bear it. He couldn't go on.

Let Harry kill him. Draco had nothing left to live for. Nothing at all. Except' retribution. The slender blonde's fist curled into a tight ball and he swung hard at Harry's jaw. Draco Malfoy would not go down so easily. Draco Malfoy would avenge himself of this wretched boy who had scammed him and undermined him like this. Draco would die another day. He wasn't going out of this world a forlorn fag. No, he was going to-- Harry pulled out of the memory. He didn't want to know what Malfoy was going to do.

It didn't matter what Draco was going to do at the time. Now Draco should know better, shouldn't he? Maybe he didn't. Harry needed to see more recent memories, but as Draco felt the boy who lived probing those memories he rejected Harry from his mind leaving the confused boy unable to assess the Slytherin's current motives.

Blinking at his abrupt arrival back into his corporeal body and real time, Harry shoved his glasses back up his nose and spoke determinedly, "Malfoy, I need to know--"

"What you needed to know you've seen. What you want to know now you're going to have to figure out on your own."

"That's not fair. You know I didn't do," Harry gestured a wild pantomime of manual strangulation. "That on purpose. It wasn't even me!"

"I know that now. In the memory you saw I didn't know that."

"So... what do you think now?"

"I think that wasn't you throttling me," Draco responded.

"And..."

"Don't you trust me, Harry?"

Harry noted that whatever their relationship was at the moment, at least Draco was using his first name now. "Didn't you just forcibly enter my mind?"

"It was part of the Occlumency lesson arrangement that I attempt to, Harry. It's not my fault you couldn't keep me out."

"But I let you--"

"And I just let you."

"I didn't see all of it," Harry said.

"It wouldn't matter if you did."

"What does that mean?"

"It means what it means. You could see me mulling this back and forth and all you'd see is that I find it confusing and it makes me angry a lot."

"Are you angry with me, Draco?" Harry asked tentatively. Hoping not to be told off for the familiar address.

"I don't know... Yes, I am a little angry with you still. But you watched over me and... I don't know. I need time to process this."

Harry was heartened that Draco had accepted him this far. With trepidation he walked around the desk closing the distance between them. The pale boy looked at him warily.

"Draco..." he trailed off the name almost before he began making the vocalization sound awkward as he tenaciously moved closer.

In a gesture that Harry now understood to be mimicry of his father's, Draco's hand moved up in a flat-handed dismissal of the boy. "Harry, get back to your side of the desk."

"I just want to--"

"I know what you want, Harry, and no," Draco stated. Stumbling backwards in an attempt to escape Harry's advance, the cowering Slytherin realized that he was at the end of the room. The stones behind him pressed into his back, jutting razors against the back of his robes, which snagged them. Still he couldn't keep his eyes off of Harry's funny lip shape. The observed mouth quirked into a grin that told Malfoy that the jig was up. Harry knew. Even if he hadn't gleaned it from Draco's mind, nor passed over his tongue, Harry knew that Draco wanted him, loved him and notably, wanted to kiss him.

In a flash, Harry was upon him. Teeth grazed over soft lips, moist muscled flesh clashed. The kiss was a passionate fury of emotions spilling over into animatedly exploring tongues. Harry's hands cupped Draco's face then trailed down his neck to his shoulders and finally rested flat on his chest. In spite of the lurid motions of his mouth, the Slytherin prince stood taciturn. His hands rested limply at his sides as if that somehow made it seem as if he weren't participating.

Grinding his hips forward, Harry forced his erection against Draco's thigh. Feeling the wanton member pressing into him, Draco's length likewise stirred. That stirring provoked Draco's arms to fly up and his hands clamped down on either of the golden boy's shoulders and he shoved Harry off of him. "Enough! Stop!" Draco panted out amidst his heady awakening.

"Draco, you obviously--"

"I know what I obviously! If someone as obtuse as you can see it then it's crystal clear to someone as self-aware as I am!"

Harry would've found that statement so ironic that it would lead him to a mad fit of giggles if he weren't currently so frustrated. Self-aware? Who was he kidding? But then his mind drifted back to what he'd just seen. And he sighed and lowered his head in exasperation. "Draco, I understand that your father did those terrible things to you, but he was wrong."

"What? Wrong? He was right! Look at what's happened already with that silly emotion! And he didn't-he did those things because he cared about me. He didn't want me to get caught out like... well, like this, actually," Draco tried to explain.

"Excuses? You're making excuses for that, that... fiend?"

"They're not excuses, they're explanations, Harry. And he's not a fiend-- he's my father. My father whom I love very much."

"You... he... that was abusive. Children need love and pets and-"

"You didn't have pets or love for that matter," Draco pointed out.

"I had a bad childhood. I'm not arguing that I didn't," Harry retorted.

"My childhood wasn't bad! It was boring. Ordinary!"

"Ordinary parents don't force ordinary children to kill birds, Draco."

"You don't understand purebloods."

"I'm trying to," Harry retorted.

It was Draco's turn to look exasperated. "Look we'll just... I... my father is a great man. He taught me things he thought would help me in life. And you have to admit that this situation is compelling evidence that he was right."

"Oh right. It's good to avoid falling in love because you might fall for a boy who has a malicious tyrant with a cadre of followers trying to kill him."

Shaking his head at the attempt at humor, Draco said dryly, "I still can't endorse you quitting your day job as hero, Harry." Then he gave the other boy a quick smirk and blew out a huff of air. "He was just trying to protect me. I won't hear more about his parenting."

"So then that's it? You can't love? Or won't?"

"That's-- no, that isn't what I'm saying."

"What are you saying then, Draco?"

"I'm saying that we have to table this discussion and all activities that might stem from such a discourse for after you've mastered Occlumency."

"Oh," said Harry, appearing perplexed despite his understanding of what Draco said.

"I just-- if there are any more revelations or spontaneous possessions--"

"I get it. No, it's smart. Very smart."

"Then you understand," Draco said, gesturing dismissively by soaring his hand out in a diagonal line.

"I do," said Harry as he shuffled back to his previous side of the desk and readied himself. Clearing his mind, he gave Draco a quick nod that he was ready and asked, "Shall we begin again?"


	13. Into Temptation

_The cradle is soft and warm  
_ _Couldn't do me no harm_  
 _You're showing me how to give_  
 _Into temptation_  
 _Knowing full well the earth will rebel_  
\-- Crowded House

 

Isolation wouldn't have agreed with everyone as well as it agreed with Draco. His new living quarters were not far from Dumbledore's office and had been specially warded with a Sanctuary spell and the Fidelius charm. While several children of Death Eaters tried to track Malfoy's movements, they couldn't place where he was staying. They might see where he was headed and would try desperately to memorize the location. However, as soon as they had committed it to memory the thought would evaporate and they would find themselves standing perplexed in the hallway staring blankly at doors unsure of how they'd arrived in this corridor.

Dumbledore nominated Snape to be the Secret Keeper which most everyone agreed was sensible. That is, everyone but Harry. Though the Gryffindor tried valiantly to argue that he was the one who should hold Malfoy's secret, it was Draco who ultimately shot him down. "You're still too vulnerable, Harry. I don't want to be murdered in my sleep because the Dark Lord took over your dreams and found where I was."

The comment stung, and in defeat Harry dropped back into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk and let out a long and irritated sigh, "But Snape won't tell me where you are."

"Right now I don't want you to know where I am."

"But my lessons are going well!" protested Harry.

"I..." Draco turned to look at Snape, his brows furrowed in worry for a moment, unsure of his resolve to really resist Harry's pleas.

"As well as they may be going, Mr. Potter, you still have a long way to go. Are you so impudent that you think that after a couple of lessons where Mr. Malfoy likely indulged you that you are ready to master the Dark Lord's full attention?" questioned Snape.

"He didn't indulge me! He-"

Draco shook his head at the situation and shifted his weight in his discomfort at dealing with such a personal situation in front of so many people, "You are doing well, and no, I haven't indulged you. I'm just not comfortable..." His voice trailed off and then broke entirely as he glared defensively around the room.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. Sometimes it felt like that was all he said to Malfoy. He was sorry that he'd lost control to Voldemort and throttled him. He was even more sorry that it had created such a vast space between them. Draco was afraid of him now. No, not afraid of him, he was afraid of Voldemort, which was a sensible fear. It was just maddening, as Harry wanted so desperately to comfort Draco and be comforted by him.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Harry he stated, "Don't be sorry, just keep practicing." Then, for the briefest of moments, Draco gave Harry a quick smile of support.

The scant bit of encouragement was enough for Harry to hold onto for now. He wasn't sure that his mind would ever be completely Voldemort-proof, but Draco appeared to have faith in him. Snape, on the other hand, continued to glower callously at the brunet with skepticism written all over his sallow face. At that moment, Harry made a vow to himself and the rest of the room, "I will. I will be an Occlumens."

\--

In spite of Snape's derisive scoff at Harry's assertion that he would master the art of Occlumency, the determined Gryffindor was making excellent progress. It wasn't simply that Draco turned out to be a rather focused teacher; Harry had managed to recruit Ron to assist him in practicing. He had initially approached Hermione to help him, but she was much less understanding of his relationship with Malfoy than he had hoped she would be by this point. In fact, after her rejection Harry had decided that he would attempt to practice by himself when he was floored by Ron's offer of assistance.

"Um... I heard you asking Hermione... in the Common Room," Ron said sheepishly later that night, whispering across his neighboring bed.

"Asking? Oh, about practicing? Yes. There's-- well I can't blame her, I suppose. There's so much... and he's never been anything but an ass--"

"Yes, he's an ass. But look, I'll help you," Ron said.

Harry was shocked. This was about the most Ron had spoken to him since the news about he and Malfoy had broken, and it was an offer to help? "Really? You want to help us?"

Ron's face contorted with disgust as he shook his head, "No, not helping _Malfoy_. I want to help you. I'm still not convinced that Malfoy hasn't cast some sort of sex charm on you or something, but I don't know. You need to know this stuff. I'll help you because you're my friend and because I don't want you to die. It's not for Malfoy and it's not because I think you being with him is right. I still think it's a trap or something. But we've known you need to know Occlumency since last year. So that's why I'm helping."

Harry nodded his agreement. That was fine. He couldn't exactly blame his friends for not understanding. He wasn't sure he understood either. It was good to feel like he was mending fences and had at least one friend again. Beaming at Ron, Harry started to snuggle back down into his covers. "Thanks, Ron. It-- I'm glad."

"Just um... don't think about Malfoy or those... whatever you do with him," Ron said as his visage twisted up into a look of teasing revulsion.

Enjoying the cheery familiarity that was blossoming again between them, Harry retorted, "Not even a little bit curious to watch, Ron?"

The redhead snickered and shook his head, "I'd rather watch _spiders_ mating than Malfoy naked."

\--

Snape was rather enjoying his new position of being virtually the only person in Draco's life. Though it irked him that the first half an hour to an hour of his nightly visitations to the secluded boy were filled with a mixture of pining for and bragging on the boy who lived, the potions master could eventually steer the subject matter to something he found more interesting.

Even though throughout Draco's scholarly career at Hogwarts he'd spent a fair amount of time chatting with Snape, it was spent talking about Lucius or how much Crabbe and Goyle annoyed him or other petty issues in Slytherin house. Snape had often used those meetings to try and find out what he could about the movements of Death Eaters by exploiting what Draco might have overheard from his father. It always filled him with a bit of shame to abuse the boy's trust like that, but this was a war.

Now, however, their conversations were free of the burdens of what Snape needed or wanted to find out and were more personal and even at times philosophical. The more Draco spoke, the less the older man saw of the youthful arrogance that Draco shielded himself with and the more he saw of the adult he was shaping into. Snape felt an odd sense of pride when Draco would occasionally drift off into rambling ideologies that he knew he had sown the seeds for.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the older man found that he was hypnotized listening to Draco speak and watching his mesmerizing gestures. The way Draco's pale hands would flutter when making a particularly salient point, and the self conscious way he'd draw them back in when he realized his hands had gotten away from him. How the youth tossed his hair back and smiled dreamily at the ceiling when he was particularly proud of what he'd said. The way his quicksilver eyes would cast down and he would sigh when he couldn't fathom an answer. In these moments, Snape would simply lean forward slightly, entranced with the strange tango of his mannerisms and how Malfoy fought to control them. He gazed at the oblivious blond who prattled on, lush lips moving over words, forming them with haughty carelessness. Snape couldn't quite stop himself from abstractly wondering what those lips felt like... tasted like--

"Professor?"

"Pardon?"

"Just seeing if you're still with me. You seem kind of out of it. It's late," Draco observed as he glanced at the clock and made the assumption that Snape's fixed stare had to do with how late it was. Or perhaps even that his professor was that engrossed in what he was saying. Not that Draco even remembered what he'd been on about.

"No, no. I'm fine. As you were saying..."

\--

Draco hoisted himself to sit atop an empty desk as he watched Snape and Harry align on either side of Snape's large desk. This time there were no wands. Most Legilimency took place without the use of them and Harry would have to protect himself through the force of his will and his training. Draco was only slightly uneasy about this confrontation. He felt pretty secure that Harry was ready for it, even though he may have rushed things a bit as he'd been growing impatient for their celibacy to end.

Snape gave no warning before he met Potter's green eyes and glared intensely into them. There was no noise in the shadowed dungeon. Past curfew on a Thursday night led to a silent castle making it easy for both men to battle their wills without distraction. The teacher was surprised at how well and for how long Harry was able to keep him at bay and remain completely detached from any sort of emotion. Harry withdrew himself from the situation; his mind went to a foggy and cloudy place that was comfortable but not happy or sad. It was a technique he'd grown quite accustomed to, although creeping into his consciousness were a few faint strains of pride at his success at stymieing Snape and the rustling of Draco's uncomfortable fidgeting behind him.

Like a nervous mother, Draco had been fretting and as the minutes ticked on he was growing restless. Looking up at the clock, he counted out that they'd been at this unblinking staring contest for about ten minutes. How much more proof did Snape need? It was enough. Draco let out a long sigh and then shoved off of the desk, his feet clattered onto the stone floor in an uncouth gesture that caused Snape's eyes to divert from Harry's.

It was a brief and terrifying moment for Potter as Snape's attention was sidetracked to the pale, lithe form of Malfoy. For while Snape was distracted and his defenses were down, Harry had carried on his concentration and caught the stray tendrils of lust that laced the older man's thoughts in regards to Draco. Snape turned his attention back to Harry just as the Gryffindor's eyes narrowed and lit up with fury. Allowing himself the briefest of sneers, Snape shut Harry back out before he was probed further for how far things may have gone between the two Slytherin. "You've done a considerable job considering what you were given to work with, Draco," Snape said, using the student's first name to further infuriate Harry.

Beaming, Draco nodded but then admitted, "He did loads of work on his own. Didn't you, Harry?" The slight blond tossed back his silvery fine hair in a preening gesture and waited for Harry to turn around so he could congratulate him. Disappointed that Harry was still facing Snape, Draco let out an exasperated sigh and started towards him with his brows furrowed in concern.

Potter watched in a weird fascination as Snape quickly bypassed the desk and swooped around him to wrap his arms around Draco in a rather uncharacteristic show of affection. Draco's visage clouded over in a shifty-eyed confusion as he found himself being hugged by, of all people, Professor Snape while Harry glared at them.

"Oh, um, thanks, Professor," Draco said as he politely extracted himself from the embrace. "I suppose now you can tell Harry where I'm staying and you won't have to baby sit me anymore," he said gaily as he side stepped the older man and moved over to Harry's side. His grey eyes cast over the seething boy curiously and then peered back at the teacher waiting for a response.

"Yes, Professor Snape, why don't you tell me where Draco is living so you can leave him alone," Harry hissed through his teeth as he wrapped a claiming arm around his lover.

"Are you sure that is wise, Draco? You never know when Potter might lose it again."

"He..." Draco looked between the two queerly for a moment and then shook his head. He had no idea what the current tension was about and wrote it off to the fact that the two never got along, although this did seem to have a fresh edginess to it. "He won't. He knows how to block it out now. He and I have tested it several times and now he's kept you out, so I'd say he's ready."

"I am not the Dark Lord," stated Snape.

"No, but you keep him out of your head. I'm sure you gave Harry as strenuous a test as you were able to," Draco said, smiling a little to try and break some of the angry tension in the room.

"Look at him now, he's out of control. I can practically taste his anger."

Draco turned his head to look at Harry's obviously rankled form but shrugged, "It doesn't take a Legilimens to see there's no love lost. But I don't suspect the point of this exercise is to make the Dark Lord think that Harry will be his friend, just to keep him out."

"His anger is a danger."

" _His_ anger is _justified_ ," hissed Harry who was doubly irritated with what he saw in Snape's thoughts and further that the two Slytherin were talking about him as if he weren't even there.

Draco looked at the two once more feeling slightly unnerved that he was missing something. "Just go ahead and tell him where I'm living," Draco said, his eyes finally resting back to Snape whom he was addressing. "I'm taking him there anyways; I'd just prefer not to have to bring him there every time. Please, Professor. I'm tired and I'd like to go to my room," he appealed.

Snape smacked his lips in distaste as he glared at the way that Harry's arm wrapped so insistently around Draco's waist. Seeing where Snape's eyes roved, Harry brought up his other arm to interlace his fingers so that his arms fully encircled the bewildered blond boy. What could Snape really do? As much as he wanted to throw the boys apart and to shout at Harry never to touch Draco again, he wasn't sure what purpose that would serve. Draco wasn't going to give up on Harry without a reason and the repressing elder Slytherin couldn't vocalize one to the boy. To that end, Snape didn't have a particularly rational reason not to tell Potter where to find the exiled Slytherin.

Giving a defeated sigh, Snape expanded the circle of the Fidelius charm to include Harry Potter by telling him where Draco was living in the castle. Excitedly, Draco wriggled out of Harry's claiming arms to grab his wrist and started to drag him to the door chirping thanks to his ex-Head of House as he flung open the heavy door. Harry's eyes never lost contact with Snape's as he focused one singular thought to broadcast to the lecherous older man, "If you touch him I will end you. He's mine."

\--

There wasn't a part of Draco that Harry hadn't missed, even if he hadn't completely experienced everything about him yet. He admired the way his rough and calloused hands appeared sliding over the smooth, even tone of Draco's pale abdomen.

"Harry..." the pale boy crooned as the fingers ghosted over his flushed and blotchy narrow chest. His nipples perked and begged for the pinching that the golden boy gave them as he lowered himself atop the splayed porcelain-skinned youth.

One of Harry's bronzed hands shot out to the nightstand for the lubrication as he kissed along Draco's collarbone. He wanted this to be perfect, but thus far they'd been lucky not to sustain permanent injury. Once they'd gotten inside of Draco's new home, the private room usually reserved for visitors and guest speakers to Hogwarts, the Slytherin tripped backwards into the room from the force of Harry's passionate kisses. Their clothes had been savagely ripped off and were strewn chaotically through the otherwise immaculate room. Draco crawled from the floor up into the bed rubbing at his bruised side. Harry, in an attempt to be seductive, had tried to maintain Draco's pained come-hither gaze only to find himself stumbling into the bed after tripping over a hastily dropped shoe. Finally though, they made it to the comfort of the bed together with no uninvited guests to crash their fun.

Fumbling with the screw top, Harry huffed his silent frustration with the inelegance of his rather imperfect performance. Draco smiled and took the bottle and pressed one side down, flipping it open and handed it back to his rosy-cheeked lover. "I'm sorry... I wanted it to be..." Harry started.

"It is. Just relax," Draco whispered as he reached out and drew his pale fingers along Harry's blushing face.

Harry closed his eyes and pulled his hand up to cover his erstwhile rival's hand on his cheek. He let out a long breath and then opened his unguarded eyes to see the fuzzy vision of his supine lover looking back at him. Buoyed by Draco's words and intimate grin, he squeezed out a measure of the clear fluid and slicked it over his erection and his fingers.

After Harry discarded the bottle back to the nightstand, Draco enfolded the other boy in his arms, drawing him atop him. Again their lips met, then parted. Their tongues reacquainted and revisited all of the humid and velvety places they'd missed. Harry tenderly worked his fingers inside of Draco, feeling the automatic recoiling of the dense muscles against the invasion followed by the pliant yielding that signaled his readiness.

Before pushing into Draco, Harry looked down at him with utter adoration. His unmanageable hair framed his face, shading it slightly from the gaslights that infused the room with a warm, golden radiance, Harry spoke just above a whisper in a timid voice, "I love you."

Afraid of what fresh hell this utterance might unleash, but unable to restrain the inevitable vigor of the words deluging his heart and mind, Draco responded, "I love you."

And this time, the world didn't end.

No one rushed the door.

The lights didn't fade.

There wasn't even an ominous clap of thunder or a flash of lighting.

Everything was absolutely ordinary.

Harry pressed his hips forward, embedding himself deeply into his lover and he reengaged their kiss. Leaning his weight on his left arm, his right moved between them to stroke Draco's length between them. They moved together leisurely in crumpled sheets to a chorus of their own soft sighs. Their groans melded, as they tasted one another's sweat and lust. Quiet showers turned to torrents of the squelching sounds of bodies colliding. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's back as they drove more vigorously against one another.

Kisses turned to gasps. Soft pushes turned to passionate, needy thrusts. Eyes opened wide and fluttered closed. Hands groped and grabbed. After a last few panicked thrusts, the simultaneous flood of molten slickness spilled between them and inside of Draco.

Finally, with the sound of a fearless exchange of "I love you" still resounding, the boys drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


	14. Underwater

_fingertips so gently on my skin  
_ _i'm underwater  
i feel the flood begin_  
 _fingertips so gently on my skin_  
 _you're taking over and over again_  
\-- Delerium

 

Meeting up with Malfoy became much easier for the boy-who-had-the-right-toys: an invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. For the time being, Draco was still attending classes with the other students and retained the power of being a Prefect. Though he likely should have had the badge and honor stripped away for consorting with another student as he had been, Dumbledore decided that in order to keep Draco going to the classes as scheduled it would be a better idea for him to at least have some measure of power.

Snape argued that this plan exposed Draco to too many dangers. Dumbledore countered that he couldn't ask all of the teachers to come and tutor Draco privately. The potions master subsequently volunteered to do all of the tutoring in the evenings. "Ah... but Mr. Malfoy will be rather busy in the evenings," stated Dumbledore.

"Busy with what? Potter?" hissed Snape bitterly.

"By my wooly socks! That is not what I meant at all. However, should you catch them together in the evenings they shall be punished!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "But I meant that in lieu of being sent out of his room for detentions, that Mr. Malfoy shall be have the responsibility of extra course work and whatever research you and the other professors may wish done."

"And Potter?"

"Has his own detentions, Severus. Mr. Malfoy has not been granted a room for his own personal Shangri La."

"Still, Potter seems to have some sort of ability to make himself invisible," Snape pointed out.

"Does he? I was not aware of this. However, I'm afraid that if you do not see him then it will be most difficult to punish them. Perhaps if you could catch him while he was unseen..." Dumbledore offered almost innocently, although the twinkle in his eyes made his meaning clear.

"If he's invisible, how am I to-"

"Just keep an _eye_ out. If you _witness_ anything suspicious, then come and _see_ me," quipped Dumbledore.

 

 

Harry only felt this way when Draco wasn't around. When the Slytherin was in front of him, everything else seemed to go away. But Harry spent most of the day away from him, which gave the Gryffindor loads of time to ponder what he'd seen in Snape's mind and replay that awful, awkward hug. Did the other boy subtly return it? No, he seemed genuinely surprised with it. But he didn't exactly push him away did he? Then again, it was just a hug, right?

Just about the time Harry had talked himself out of believing that there was anything going on between Malfoy and the potions professor, Snape would take Draco aside to have a chat with him. Or he'd just pat the boy on the back in the hall. Draco seemed somewhat thrown by this behavior but dismissed it as Snape wishing to be his mentor or father figure. Although it did bother the Slytherin a bit in that Snape was supposed to be pretending to detest him for being a traitor and instead he was more attentive than ever.

Nearly every night Harry would make his way to Draco's room with aid of the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak. There were a couple of nights where Ron's insomnia made it impossible to leave. Then there were a few nights where Snape, determined to catch Harry sneaking into Draco's room, had camped out in front of Draco's door. Harry never mentioned this to his lover. Telling the Slytherin about Snape's sitting there would cause more questions than Harry wanted to answer. Though the boy who lived wouldn't admit it, deep down he was afraid that if Draco were minutely aware of Snape's affections for him, that there was a chance that the blond would wish to pursue it. So Harry kept mum. Draco remained ignorant. Snape continued with his plans to turn Harry in to Dumbledore for visiting and endangering Draco, even though he had unknowingly been thwarted by a map made by his rivals decades before.

But tonight, tonight there was no Snape, and Harry had a special surprise for Draco. Winter had given way to spring; and though it was still rather bitterly cold at night, with the power of magic at his whim, Harry thought it was about time that he and Draco see what the rage about skinny-dipping was. While splashing around in the lake might be problematic, it still seemed to excite Harry. The idea of messing around under water very much appealed to the golden boy ever since his fourth year underwater trial. In order to make this happen, Harry had gone to great pains to acquire some gillyweed to enact his desire.

"Harry, it's really fucking cold."

"Well spotted. Look, the sooner you eat this, the sooner we'll get in the water and we'll be warmed up."

Draco gave Harry a warning glare for a moment as his nostrils flared in distaste at the wriggling gooey rat-tail looking plant that the Gryffindor held out to him. Or at least it looked like it was moving. Likely it was a trick of the light of the waning three quarter moon coupled with the imposing firelight glare of the castle behind them. Either way, it didn't look like something the paling Slytherin wanted to put into his mouth. "You first."

"Draco! I'm not trying to poison you! I just want you to get settled into the water and then I'll hide our clothes under the cloak," Harry protested.

"I can put the clothes under the cloak. I just want to see... doesn't it give you... fins and gills and make you all slimy? I mean, are we going to be equipped to..." Draco gestured near his belt and then towards the softly lapping lake. Catching his glance was the lazy wave of a tentacle from the Giant Squid. Again Draco appeared to be balking. "And that thing... what if it... gets too close..."

Harry blew air out of his slightly chafed lips and rolled his eyes as he looked around at the clear night. It was beautiful out here, but freezing. He'd had them come out in minimal clothing, just their pajamas so there wouldn't be much to hide. However the fuss Draco was making was likely to cause unwanted attention and they'd have to go back before Harry got to enact his strange fantasy. "Draco, it won't."

"And the merpeople?"

"Asleep."

"In mer-beds?"

"I guess?"

"With mer-sheets and mer-pillows?"

"Draco, don't be a mer-asshole. They have their own village and they're not terribly interested in what goes on outside of it unless we got too close. I know exactly where it is. It's fine."

Cracking a smile at this, Draco shifted uneasily as he wrapped his arms around himself. Prancing a bit against the cold, he looked longingly back at the warm castle, "And the grindylows?"

"Third years can handle them. Besides, they live in the grass at the bottom of the lake and we will just easily avoid going that far down. We'll stay semi-near the surface. Now eat it," Harry said as he thrust the piece of gillyweed in Draco's face.

In response, Draco turned his head away with his nose up in the air like a spoilt child. "Alright, but just an 'it won't' doesn't fly with the squid. It's awfully friendly."

"At least it's soft?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it might feel nice?"

"Ew Harry, you're a... freak!" squalled Draco.

Harry raised his brows and smirked. "Look, I'm sure it's seen such things before. And if you just push its tentacles away it takes the hint. It's fine."

"Where did it come from anyways?" Draco asked as his teeth started to chatter uncontrollably.

"I don't know, the squid's been there as long as-"

"Not the squid you bestial freak, I mean where did you get the gillyweed?"

"Oh. _That_. Well, I sent off for it. Owl-order. There was an ad in _The Daily Prophet_ for Slug  & Jigger's Apothecary. They made a mistake in ordering and their loss was my gain!" Harry said, summarizing the point of the ad. "Anyways, that's where I got the idea. Got it by owl post direct from Diagon Alley to me-"

Draco held up his hand to indicate he'd heard more than enough paraphrasing of ad copy. "Fine, fine, if I eat it will you shut up about that ad?" the shivering blond inquired. With great delight, Harry again foisted the jiggling grey mass to Draco's face. Closing his eyes, the boy opened his mouth and sucked in the squishy plant, giving Harry's fingers a quick and playful lick. It was every bit as foul as it looked and Draco's face reflected his repulsion just before he began to gag. After a moment, his breathing started to constrict. Harry was fast at work stripping his boyfriend. Naked, beginning to ooze slime and growing webbing between his digits, Draco was unceremoniously shoved into the chilly water.

After an agonizing moment of sheer terror where Draco thrashed and flailed at his inability to breathe and the sheer cutting frost of the blindingly black water, things began to resolve. Draco only a faint chill now as the water caressed his body. Movement was rather easy thanks to the webbing and he'd just begun to start to swim around comfortably when his ankle was caught. Furiously, he whirled around, only to be met with the tepid warmth of another body that felt just as strange as it was familiar.

It was a small mercy that the water was as dark as it was. If Draco had seen Harry with gills and fins, he would've balked. But as it was, their bodies were simply weightless and they slithered together slickly. The sensation was fascinating and so erotic, that Draco completely forgot the magical beasts that they were sharing this soup with.

Though he hadn't asked, Draco remembered from past lessons they had about an hour to play around. Although that was more than enough time to do what was on nearly any teen boy's mind, Harry was clearly ready to get things started. Draco felt the strangely webbed fingers slide over his length, smoothing the slick webbed skin over the head as the blonde's head fell back and his hair slowly wavered in the inky darkness of the water.

The boys could only see by the occasional chance flicker of light that sliced through the greenish water, lighting their skin with an unearthly marine glow. In particular, the pallor of Draco's porcelain skin and silvery hair caught at the light making him luminescent in the disrupted water. Draco happened to catch the refractions of the diffused moonlight glinting over Harry's transfigured mask-like glasses as the Gryffindor leaned in to press his lips against the other boy's. Prizing their lips apart, their tongues met warmly as their bodies weightlessly found familiar curves to cling to.

Keeping a watchful eye for where they were and where their activities may float them, Harry slid his fingers over the other boy's back as they embraced. Draco's legs wrapped around Harry's, his ankles hooked around the brunette's calves so that they wouldn't float apart, as his webbed hands slid adoringly over Harry's flexing cheeks as they continued their kiss. The benefit of gills meant that they didn't have to break the kiss to breathe, and they took full advantage of this as their hands slickly explored one another.

Despite the fact that it was clear that Harry was taking the lead in their encounters, Draco enjoyed testing his boundaries. After squeezing the heft of Harry's ass gently, he gently parted him. Cold water flashed over the heated ring of muscles, making Harry gurgle a yelp. Immediately Draco brushed his finger over the twitching bud and pressed a gelatinous finger into him. True to form, Harry's body went rigid and he shoved the hand away and bit a little too hard at Draco's tongue for his audacity. Inwardly, Draco snickered. He broke the kiss, and gave Harry a murky pout that the other boy couldn't see, but certainly felt.

Rolling his eyes behind his glassy mask, Harry copied Malfoy's lewd movements, parting him to the frigid caresses of the water. Draco's eyes opened to see nothing but sinisterly reflective mask before him and a mass of shadowy waving hair as Harry's fingers penetrated him. It was almost frightening to not be able to see Harry's eyes in the middle of this disorienting strangeness. The water was mysterious and icy and it held them weightlessly in its grasp. The warmth he was clinging to was nearly faceless due to the encompassing visor. As if Harry was a stranger, a random fiend that came out of the gloom who was now sliding his fingers in and out of the heat of his inner sanctum.

Sliding against Harry's hardening member, Draco likewise became aroused as he gave himself over to the hauntingly kinky suggestions. For a while, they kissed and stroked one another, trying to keep from the dangerous creatures that lurked just behind the thin veil of the gloomy depths. Draco leaned into slide his tongue over Harry's gills, exploring the new part of his lover. In return, Harry curled his fingers carefully inside of Draco; prodding him at the angle he knew would elicit a muffled gasp.

Carefully pulling his fingers out of the Slytherin, Harry placed an arm around Draco's waist as his other steadied himself till his erection found the give between his legs. Harry caressed the blonde's scrotum for a moment as he pulled his hand out from under Draco and pulled his hands back to the pale boy's waspish waist. With the gentle rocking of the subtle waves that their movements generated, Harry pressed himself into his lover. Weaving his arms and legs to entwine Harry in his grasp, Draco simply submitted to the unhurried tidal movements of the Gryffindor's body, pushing back with the same tender ease.

Their weightless embrace carried them with a moderate bobbing to the edge of the lake followed by a trail of fragments and bubbles. It was unavoidable that they would end up on a bank as Harry's thrusting always took them in the direction that he was facing. Harry had changed directions a few times to fight it, but realizing that their time was sadly running short, with a nod of agreement, Draco allowed himself to be pressed down against the sand and pebbles on the sloping ledge of the shore. With more leverage that comes with the steadying influence of gravity, Harry pressed harder and faster inside of Draco, their union eased by the protective slime coating provided by the Mediterranean plant.

The heat of Draco's insides sucked lovingly around the veined protrusion of Harry's length as he thrust deeply. The motion of their bodies colliding cased the water to splash and pound harder against the edge of the lake, unsettling the usual calm. The effects of the gillyweed were starting to wear off, causing the oxygen to slow in their gasping and shuddering bodies. Harry quickly grasped Draco's prick and he swirled and thrummed his silky fingers over it until he felt the hard pull at his groin and then warmth of his release. The pulsing and pulling of Draco's inner muscles milked Harry free of his own ejaculate. The brunette's head pounded from lack of oxygen as he came and he was still releasing into Draco when he grabbed up the other suffocating boy and swam them up to air.

Surfacing was hard on their lungs and they sputtered and choked for a few moments, then parted as they relearned how to breathe. Life outside of the water suddenly seemed unnecessarily harsh. Air was hard, movement was quick and it was horribly and bitterly arctic. "Hypothermia!" Draco croaked out as he started to shiver violently.

Deftly, Harry swam his way closer to where their clothes were laying; marked by a stick he'd shoved into the ground. He felt around till he found what he was looking for and flourished his wand to cast a heating charm around Draco and then himself as he allowed them both a moment to warm up before standing up into the night air. "Eat your hearts out Muggles. Too bad for them they can't warm the water around them, " Draco observed.

"Well, technically they can warm water in one way..."

"What way?"

Harry gave a thought to informing Draco about public pools and why bathrooms were so under utilized, but decided that the son of a Death Eater was already disgusted enough by non-magic folk. "Never mind, you don't want to know."

Shrugging, Draco slipped under the water to slick his hair back and then resurfaced looking rosy and content. "That was... interesting. But I'm ready for some dry land," he said as the last of the slime drifted back into the calm of the water and he started for the shore. Stopping on his way to gather Harry with him and to give him a long kiss, the boys stepped out of the lake together. Immediately Harry cast a drying charm and another heating charm in the air to give them a few moments to pull on their freshly uncovered clothing.

Hiding under the invisibility cloak together, the boys joked and quietly giggled about their underwater adventure. Draco related how not seeing Harry was almost spooky but still sexy while Harry explained how radiant Draco looked and how warm he felt inside of him, causing them both to blush a little as they walked. Once up to the castle, they went silent, communicating with looks and gestures as they headed back to Draco's room.

In front of the warded door, Draco stopped. The Gryffindor was still moving forward, prompting Draco's pale arm to shoot out in front of him as he pointed to the door and then lower at the crack of light that illuminated the stone floor. Grey eyes widened, Draco looked at Harry apprehensively. There were only four people who knew where in the castle he was and who could get through that door. Two of them were standing just outside of it. Draco was caught, unless something truly terribly was inside.

Not believing that the Dark Lord had invaded the school to wait up for Draco to get back, the Slytherin slipped out from under the cloak. With his tapered and elegant finger, Draco pointed down the corridor and gave a nod to indicate that Harry should go back to his dorms. There was no point to putting them both in trouble.

Harry took a few steps in that direction and then stopped. He wasn't really worried about being caught, what the Gryffindor was troubled with was whether it was Snape inside. No, he was sure it was Snape in the room waiting to talk to Draco. Why had Snape gone into his room that night? Out of suspicion Harry had stayed up on those nights where Snape was outside of Draco's room and never had the teacher entered the room. Why was tonight different? Had Snape finally decided to tell Draco how he felt? No, Harry wasn't going back to the dorms. Fuck that. If that greasy git thought Harry Potter would stand by while he put his pederastic paws on his boyfriend-

Potter's thoughts were interrupted by the soft incantation from Draco's irritated and puffy lips followed by the click of the door. Flying back to the spot behind Draco, Harry followed the boy closely, indelicately brushing the fabric of the cloak against the blond. Knowing that Harry was behind him, Draco's body tensed, but he plodded on, stepping into the brightness of his bedchambers to see Snape sitting awkwardly on his bed looking infuriated.

The good thing about being a Slytherin is that it often led to being a good liar. Being a good liar often led to being a decent actor. Forced to act as if there weren't an invisible boy behind you while you're trying to sort out why your mentor is in your room after you've clearly broken the rules is a huge test of your acting and lying abilities. Still, Draco managed to make his hesitation at shutting the door seem somewhat theatrical but natural, giving Harry time to shuffle in quietly before he pressed the door closed. "Professor, I'm sorry. I know it was foolish and you've all gone through great pains to-"

"Hush, Draco. Not another word. I must tell you something. It cannot wait another moment. Come, sit by me," Snape said as he patted the spot next to him.

Harry's nails bit hard into his palms as he fought the urge to rip off his cloak and scream at the sordid authority about being a pedophile and using his position and-

"Professor? I... alright," Draco said quietly as he glanced fretfully around the room, not remembering a time when the older man had asked him to get quite so intimately close to him. The blond waif made his way to the bed and slipped next to the distressed older man.

The sight of his lover sitting so close to Snape enraged Harry and he could feel his face blossoming into a livid blush of hate. His hand stabbed into his pocket and he gripped his wand tightly as his other arm crossed over to grip his own bicep to hold his wand arm down.

"Draco, I know this will come as a great shock to you. It was a great shock to me as well. No one planned on this happening, but now that it has..." Snape said as he wrapped an arm around the bewildered Slytherin and squeezed him gently. Draco's heart pounded in terror for what the next words out of the potion's master's mouth might be as Harry stood in dumb shock at what he was witnessing. "I regret to have to inform you that your father has escaped from Azkaban."


	15. Overkill

"Draco? Did you hear me?" the older man asked, speaking into the silky, flaxen hair after a few moments of silence.

At this prompt, Draco released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. Exhaling eased his lightheadedness. "Yes. He's... escaped?"

"Yes, Draco. Your father escaped Azkaban," Snape assured him.

Draco's eyes searched wildly around his room, knowing logically that Harry was invisible, but still wanting so urgently to lay eyes on him, to question what to do with this knowledge. "That's... impossible, isn't it? I mean... father's not an Animagus, unless he kept that from me."

"The Dementors left Azkaban when the Dark Lord showed himself, Draco. You know that. And you further know that wizards have monitored the prison since then. Wizards are bribable, if not simply under the employ of the Dark Lord. I'm certain it wasn't a particularly risky proposition on your father's part," drawled Snape.

"Is... is... the Dark Lord going to kill my father?" Draco asked.

"That is unlikely, Draco. If he wished your father dead, he wouldn't have wasted resources having him released."

"Then... why?"

"We believe that he is headed here. It is probable that your father was given a choice of his life or to take yours, and given-"

"He wouldn't!" wailed the youth.

The anguish of Draco's cry made Harry's breath catch in his throat and he wanted terribly to remove his invisibility cloak and comfort his lover. But Harry knew that if he did such a thing, Snape would have him thrown out and removed from the circle of the Fidelius charm, which would do neither of them any good. So he silently made his way behind the bed to watch as closely as he could, willing Draco to stretch out a hand in his direction.

As if Snape sensed Harry's closeness, the potions master squeezed Draco closer to him, holding him tightly against his chest. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm very sorry. But we both know that the tragedy is that he would. You are safe here, but if you would like me to stay, I shall. I could have a cot brought in, or if you would rather I could stay with you in your bed."

That was low. Even for Snape, it seemed low. Harry burrowed his nails hard into his palms to keep from screaming. It wasn't just the frustration of how hurt Draco was and how Harry had to stand down. It wasn't even the fact that Lucius Malfoy would exchange his son's life for his own. It was the fact that on top of all of this, Snape was using this personal tragedy to try to get himself into Draco's bed!

_Foul. Sickening. Repugnant-_

"No, Professor. I think... I think I'd like to be alone," whispered Draco as his grey eyes opened and again sought out where Harry might be.

This seemed to surprise Snape who similarly peered around the room. He took a moment to think about this response. It was unanticipated. Certainly Draco would be too frightened to stay in his room alone given that his father was out to kill him. The boy smelled earthy and outdoorsy. Wherever he'd been he had likely been with Potter. But Draco's doorway performance was convincing enough that Snape believed that he was currently alone with the teen. "I'd have to advise against you dragging Potter into this. Were he caught here without Dumbledore's permission; he would be punished by being taken out of the circle of the Fidelius charm. Not to mention that it would put him in grave danger if your father were to show up."

"You would also be in danger should my father arrive," pointed out the Slytherin. "But no, I won't be sending for Harry. I want some time to think about it. Besides, with the charm and the sanctuary spell on the room, what could my father really do?" questioned the boy, trying to sound brave and strong as if he truly wanted to be alone. All he really wanted was Snape to leave so he could talk to Harry.

Harry stayed completely still in his spot at the foot of the bed, knowing that Draco had no idea he was so near. He wanted to let him know, he wanted Draco to understand how proud he was of him. Mostly he just wanted to hold his boyfriend and tell him that it would all be ok. In fact, he wanted to do all of that instead of punching the salacious teacher, which surprised him.

"I suppose I would. But Draco, I am willing to take that risk to make sure that you're not afraid."

"I'm not afraid, Professor. I'm just... tired. And upset. And I'd rather not get so... emotional in front of anyone," assured Draco.

Snape wasn't a fool. Not a complete one anyways. While he did understand that Draco was uncomfortable with the prospect of a public display of emotion, he also knew that it was likely that the young Slytherin had some sort of plan to communicate with his lover. Having no proof, and further not wanting to appear ruthless in front of the object of his affection, he nodded. "Very well then. However, if you need anything at all, do not hesitate. My door is always open to you, Draco," he cooed to the boy who was gently extracting himself from the embrace.

"I understand, Professor, and thank you," Draco said to him as he finally detangled and stood to open the door.

"You know that when we're not in class, I said that you may call me Severus," stated Snape as he straightened his grey nightshirt and took the few steps to the door.

"I... yes, I'm sorry. Calling you 'Professor' is just habit, I suppose," observed Draco as he opened the door. He didn't know quite why, but calling the man Severus just made him uncomfortable. It was strange, as before now he probably would've lorded it over the other Slytherin. Perhaps that was it. No one to lord it over made it less amusing. At the moment, Draco didn't much care why he was fussed by it. He just wanted the man out so Harry could hold him.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Draco. Goodnight," Snape said with a polite bow as he stepped over the threshold of the door.

"Goodnight, Professor," stated Draco solemnly as he closed the door. Reaching for his wand, he flourished it to spell it shut.

Instantly Harry yanked off the cloak, causing his commonly untidy hair to appear even more unkempt and full of static. The Gryffindor put his index finger to his lips and pointed at the door, indicating not to speak as Snape was likely listening. Which he was. Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his cloak and unfolded it after whispering that he was up to no good, and sure enough, Snape was pacing in front of Draco's door.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed as a child might if they found their parents to be a bit overprotective. Taking the map from Harry's hand, he set it aside and dragged Harry to the bed with him. He was somewhat relieved that they couldn't speak. Draco didn't have much to say. What could you say after news like that? Instead, he just got under the covers with Harry and cleaved tightly to him. Pressing his face into the crook of Harry's neck, he closed his eyes, inhaling Harry's boyish scent shot through with the pungent odor of earth and lake and sex. After a few moments of soft weeping, Draco slowly drifted off to sleep as Harry held him.

\--

The next morning had been tricky. Snape had to get back to his chambers before anyone realized the teacher had spent the night camped out in front of Draco's door. He could write it off to doing his job, but it was a bit over the top. Rather than deal with the questions, Snape left a bit after 5 am. Harry hadn't slept much in spite of the lure of Draco's regular breathing. He'd spent the night glaring hard at the dot on the parchment that was Severus Snape, willing him to leave. Or fade. Or just vanish. Perhaps a Lucius Malfoy dot would show up and take care of the Severus Snape dot. A boy could dream.

Not wanting to slip out the night without providing reassurances, Harry nudged Draco awake to let him know he was leaving. The Slytherin's face appeared pained, but he nodded his understanding as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. "I'll talk Dumbledore into letting me have a real visit tonight. I'm sure under the circumstances, he'll let me."

Draco nodded sleepily and reached out for Harry's hand, which he pulled to his lips and kissed softly. "Thank you."

"I'm glad I was here. I love you."

"I love you," declared Draco drowsily.

"See you tonight," Harry whispered before donning his cloak and slipping out the door.

\--

Harry was surprised that Ron didn't give him a hard time about leaving to go visit with Draco. He along with everyone else in the school had read in The Daily Prophet that Lucius had escaped from Azkaban and the gossipmongers were abuzz with speculation on where the fugitive might be and if he were really going to come for his son. Though Harry was fine with the belief that Ron felt badly for Malfoy, he was surprised that his best friend seemed genuinely happy for him to have found someone.

While this in and of itself was good news, it smacked a little odd to Harry, stopping him dead in his tracks. "You're... happy for me?" he questioned.

"Sure. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Uh... because you hate Malfoy?" tried Harry as he wrapped his fingers around his bedpost and swung casually from it with his head tilted to the side in his puzzlement.

"Well, I like seeing you happy?" Ron asked, starting to blush a bit as he looked down at his hand that was fidgeting with the duvet on his bed nervously.

"And I appreciate that, Ron, but why the sudden change of attitude?" quizzed Harry.

Ron bit his lip, hard, but he couldn't help from beaming as his face turned a clashing crimson against the long strands of ginger hair that he was shaking from his face. "Because... I'm umm... seeing someone too."

"You are?" asked Harry. Had he really been that oblivious? Spending all of his time with Draco, thinking only of himself and his romance? So much so that he hadn't noticed Ron with, "Whom?"

"Well... after she said she wouldn't help you with Occlumency and stuff, I thought I should try to talk to Hermione and..."

"HERMIONE?!?!"

"Err... yeah," Ron said, feeling himself blushing deeply again as he swallowed hard.

"Do you want to talk about it, should I stay?" Harry asked, although this wasn't the best time he felt suddenly like he'd been a truly horrid friend.

"No! Go! She's umm... I was hoping I could get you all out anyhow so we could umm... study."

"Study," teased Harry as he rolled his eyes. "Well, then I'll leave you to your... study session. I'm going to go do some studying myself," Harry said as he headed for the door.

Ron cleared his throat and nodded, "See you later."

\--

After their usual, active bout of lovemaking, Harry rolled over to his side, pulling Draco along with him and closed his eyes to catch his breath. Tenderly he started to stroke the other boy's arm, petting him soothingly as he tried to think of a good way to word this. Though this didn't seem the best time to broach this subject, there never really seemed to be a particularly great time to do it. However, after Snape's Machiavellian attempt to get into Draco's bed the night before, Harry was desperate to finally have this talk. "Draco, haven't you ever wondered why Snape's paying so much attention to you?"

"Well, he is my head of house," reminded Draco as he drew a slender finger up to trace adoringly over Harry's scar.

"But he's the head of ALL of Slytherin house. But he doesn't preen them as much as he does you."

"He doesn't preen me," doubted Draco as his face hardened in irritation.

Harry simply looked at him incredulously. There was denial and then there was _denial_.

Rolling his eyes at Harry's silence, Draco flipped his hand up dismissively in a gesture of mea culpa, "He compliments my dedication and my clearly superior abilities at potions making. Besides, we have a lot in common. He shares many of my views on philosophy."

"Philosophy, Draco? The most philosophy I've heard from you is that brown shoes shouldn't be worn with black slacks!" exclaimed Harry as he started to scoot back from Draco as both boys gestures became more elaborate.

"Alright first of all, I'm insulted that you would paint me as being THAT insipid. You and I BOTH know better than that. Second of all, if my presence HAS awakened you to that philosophy, then you should, for the love of all that is magical, STOP WEARING brown shoes with your black slacks. And finally, what I do often talk to Snape about is about the lackadaisical way that Dumbledore runs this school and how he overlooks entirely too much poor behavior and that Hufflepuffs are practically squibs and anyone sorted into that house should be automatically expel-"

"He agreed with _that_?"

"Well, he nodded! And Professor Snape doesn't interrupt like some peop-"

"Nodding doesn't mean anything, it doesn't mean he agrees. He's probably not even listening to you!"

"Fine, whatever. He didn't interrupt me so rudely like _you_ do!" observed Draco irritably.

"HE WASN'T LISTENING TO YOU!" With this, Harry had moved back far enough from Draco to sit up on the bed and hold his hands up with his fingers splayed in a gesture of stopping Draco's comparison.

"You know what? YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! And furthermore, you're just jealous because no one wants to listen to what _you_ say. I have an educated older man who thinks my opinions matter and _you_ -" snapped Draco as he whirled the sheets up over his naked torso as he began to likewise sit up.

"He's not interested in your _opinions_!" protested Harry, leaving out altogether that people for the most part did listen to him. He was the boy who lived. If anything he got too much attention. But that wouldn't get him any closer to making his point about Snape.

"Then why is he hanging on my _every word_?" asked Draco as he finally straightened up to face Harry eye to eye.

"Because he..." Harry gestured with his hand circling it as if hoping for Draco to finish the thought as his voice trailed off.

"...thinks I'm right. Which I am. I am _always_ right! And Snape agrees with me and that is why he likes listening to me."

"Alright look, you're not _always right_ , and also-"

"ALSO, why are you so bothered by Professor Snape talking to me? Is it really so _tragic_ that I actually have a friend other than YOU?" quizzed the exasperated Slytherin who was starting to look huffily put out by this, as if Harry were simply trying to upset him.

"Draco, that man is _not_ your friend he-"

"You're right, Harry. He's not just my friend. He's like a _father_ to me. We're _very close_... and now my father is..." Draco broke off and swallowed before starting up again, "and... why are you doing this to me _now_?"

Harry wanted to shriek. Or shake Draco. Perhaps a combination of both would have helped him. But at the words "like a father to me" followed by the reality that Draco's biological father was out to kill Harry and how much that really hurt and frightened Draco, the Gryffindor just couldn't do it. He couldn't burst that arrogant bubble that surrounded the overly blond head. Harry sighed and glared dejectedly at his empty hands on his naked lap and then brought up his right hand to chew on the exposed hangnail on his thumb. "You're right," he said dully, his hand muffling his words slightly. "I'm just worried that Snape will try to turn you against me. He's never liked me."

Draco's eyes squeezed up in sympathy and he leaned in and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and kissed his temple. He chose his words carefully so he wouldn't seem to be gloating that he was, again, right-as he always was. Snape loved him like a son and that made Harry jealous. It was so obvious. "I love you Harry, and I wouldn't be that easily swayed. But you're just going to have to try and get used to the fact that people other than you are going to enjoy my company. I'm tremendously attractive and exceedingly clever. Have some faith in my intelligence, Harry. I know when someone is trying to dupe me," he pointed out as he pointed his index finger at his own temple without the barest trace of irony.

Harry couldn't think of a single kind or comforting word to say to that, so he simply sighed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend as he pulled them both down to lying on the bed. All he could do was take comfort in Malfoy's ignorance and hope that perhaps he would never have his image of Snape rudely shattered by the greasy hands of lecherous reality.

\--

Down in the dungeons, Snape moodily went over essays, leaving cathartic trails of angry red ink as if he were on a killing spree. He was irritated. Not simply that Dumbledore had allowed Potter to visit Draco, but that the Slytherin teen had completely spurned his attempts to comfort him.

Snape wasn't a fool. He understood from the outset that Draco was utterly smitten with Harry. When Draco talked about him, he lit up with an enthusiastic glow and his gestures turned untamed and passionate. The teacher couldn't help but be envious of both of them. To feel so much for another person and to have it returned, it must be heaven. He wanted it for himself.

Whether that would realistically come from the adolescent seemed rather unlikely when Snape thought about it logically. Draco never quite caught any of his subtle hints and Potter... well Potter made everything more difficult than it should be. He found himself as jealous of Harry as he'd been of James. Part of him almost wondered if this competition over Draco had more to do with his want to claim victory over a Potter, even if it were a younger Potter. Aside from the odd and occasional suggestions to Draco, for the most part his advances toward the waif were made in front of the Gryffindor simply to goad him.

But then, those grey eyes, the flaxen hair, and the subtle movements of Draco's plush lips as they curved to form the words of whatever he was saying. Snape closed his eyes for a moment as he tried not to think about the teen, or what was likely to be happening in that room. To think on that hurt. Harry was, like James, getting the attentions that Snape deserved. The thought irritated the professor and he opened his eyes to realize that he'd jabbed the quill into the parchment, breaking the nub, which caused the remainder of the ink to blossom out from the puncture point. Red ink like blood stains.

He wasn't sure when he truly became aware that he was looking up into steely grey eyes. However these eyes were more wizened and hard. The face was more slender and gaunt than Snape remembered, and the hair had lost much of its luster. There had been no Dementors in Azkaban, nor had he been there 12 years like the previous escapee had endured. Still, even with a fresh set of tailored clothing, Lucius Malfoy did not look himself in the least.

Immediately Snape stood up as he looked at Lucius in a mixture of horror and shock. He had the grace to quickly draw his face into his usual placid expression as Lucius made his way around the desk to hug Snape awkwardly. "It has been too long, Severus, too long my brother in arms," the elder Malfoy enthused as he gave the other man a couple of hard slaps on the back before breaking the embrace to look into Snape's eyes.

The potions master instantly averted his eyes before he allowed Lucius to test his own Legilimency skills. "Indeed, too long. Although it is somewhat of a surprise to see you, have a seat," Snape said as he indicated a chair on the other side of his desk, as he resumed sitting on his own.

"It can't be that big of a surprise given," Lucius gestured in a way that Snape now found oddly familiar.

"No, I suppose it is not," stated Snape as he sat back in his chair, observing the way that Malfoy carried himself. Still sat straight and proud. If Lucius missed his wife or regretted what was to happen with his child, he did not show it in the least. His eyes were cold as a man resigned to his fate. Now and then Snape could catch a glimpse of anxiety, but it would not do for Lucius to look overly concerned in front of what he believed to be another Death Eater.

"I understand he has been moved from Slytherin."

"Ah. So you've come for him."

"I have little choice in the matter. His life is forfeit whether it is me who ends him or not. I like to think that I could show him the mercy of a quick death," Lucius said carefully as if he'd rehearsed this in his mind not simply so that he could say it to Snape flawlessly, but so that he could talk himself into believing it.

"I see. He is seen as a traitor, and that is unbearable. I had thought I might be asked, but that would compromise me. So I am grateful that it is not. However," Snape said as he leaned in over his dark wood desk, resting his elbows on the glossy shelf. "This night might give you opportunity to spare your only son and redeem you enough to keep him."

It was clear that Lucius was intrigued with this idea, as he likewise leaned in with keen interest. "Might it?"

This was a risky gambit and not one Snape had put a lot of thought into. It just suddenly popped into his head and he saw no obvious flaws, yet. Snape was banking on a fair bit of ignorance on the elder Malfoy's part, but if things went as he planned, Draco would be safe and Harry would have been forced to kill Lucius. While the goal of keeping Draco alive was foremost on his mind, the notion that Harry taking the boy's father from him in such a direct way also greatly appealed to the teacher. "Tonight Dumbledore has allowed the boys to visit in Draco's room. It is highly likely that they will be spending the night together-"

"Severus-"

Snape's nostrils flared and he nodded to Lucius as if to indicate that the idea was just as repugnant to him. "The point being that I could send for Draco to come to speak to me, leaving Harry alone in the room. Completely unguarded," Snape said as his fingers flattened and spread over the mahogany and strummed his nervousness.

The Death Eaters, including Lucius, did not know the end of the prophecy. They were not completely aware that only Voldemort could kill Harry. To them, the boy was a propitious menace that any of them could kill. "I see. You believe that should I kill Harry that the Dark Lord would give me time to bring Draco back to the fold?"

"I believe so. You could kill the boy and I would go to him and try to intercede on your behalf. If he says no, then he says no and you may go ahead and finish your son as well. But I believe with the threat out of the way and your son's temptation removed, Draco would be spared after some rectifications," Snape lied.

Lucius looked at Snape for a moment and then turned his head to consider a bookcase with a myriad of old tomes with indistinguishable golden titles on the spines. He squinted as if trying to read them as he mulled over the possibilities of how this could end and he couldn't see the Dark Lord finding fault with the murder of the meddlesome Potter. "This sounds like an agreeable plan, Severus," Lucius agreed, giving a nod as he sat back in his seat. "I appreciate this favor and shall endeavor to find a way to repay your kindness. Although I suspect that Draco himself has won you over. He is a charming young man when he wishes to be."

"Indeed, he is a charming young man. One worth preserving," stated Snape as he pulled open his desk for a fresh quill and couple of pieces of parchment. He pushed the papers he was grading aside in order to quickly scrawl out a message for Draco.

_Draco,_

It is imperative that you come and see me in my office in a quarter of an hour. There is something I did not tell you in your room, something urgently important. It is a matter of life and death. Do not, under any circumstances, bring Potter. This will be a private conversation.

Professor Snape

After a moment to scan the letter for errors, he rolled it up, sealed it, and handed it to Lucius. "Put this under the door and wait for him to leave. Then-" Snape said and halted as he again started to scrawl on the parchment directions to Draco's room, thus bringing Lucius Malfoy into the circle of Fidelius. "There is a sanctuary spell on the room, I'm not sure-"

"I know how to take care of such spells. There is a very dark magic that can punch through it. You will have a difficult enough time explaining how I might've found the room," Lucius pointed out.

"Yes, for that, I will need it to look as if you beat it out of me."

"Very well," sneered Lucius, appearing pleased with this turn of events. Standing, he drew his wand and gave Snape his most feral smile before brandishing his wand with a dispassionate, "Crucio!"

Snape hurdled forward, screaming in pain. Unsettling the inkbottle on his desk, red ink splashed all over his hands. Red ink like blood stains.

Lucius ended it after a mercifully short amount of time and turned with his scroll in hand to make his way to his son's room. It didn't even occur to him that Snape never specified where to meet after the deed was done.

\--

The boys were settled in a sticky puddle in the middle of the four-poster bed. All but the candle by the door had long grown cold. It was clear that Draco felt protected in his room as he dozed with his mouth open, breathing balmily against Harry's shoulder. The brunet, however, was rather vexed by his lover's blind spot when it came to the potions teacher. And further bothersome was the way that Draco actively avoided the subject of what he was going to do if his father showed up.

Draco would look hurt for a moment, and then turn his head away as if worried that Harry would read his mind and then start talking about something entirely unrelated. Harry knew it had to hurt, so he didn't push it. Still, it was keeping him up, or at least waking him up at repeated intervals as he worried between Snape and Lucius.

Hearing something shuffling at the door, Harry squinted at the crack of light. After blinking a few times he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand for a better perspective on the scroll under the door. The seal looked suspiciously like Snape's and so Harry extricated himself from under the somberly slumbering Slytherin and pulled the scroll the rest of the way through. For a mad moment he wondered if he shouldn't wake Draco and allow confidential communication to remain confidential. "Fuck it," he whispered to himself as he broke the seal.

Lucius watched with satisfaction as the letter was pulled from under the door. Lurking in the shadows, he waited for his son to leave.

Harry could feel loathing for Snape glowing up to his ears. How dare he? How DARE he? Balling up the note in his fist, he headed into the bathroom clutching his wand in his other hand. He rifled through the hamper till he found enough of Draco's uniform to pass for the Slytherin and yanked it on. After that, he put a temporary blond glamour on his untidy hair. Swirling around, he left the bathroom and grabbed up Draco's cloak. As he knew that he didn't much resemble Draco, he pulled the hood up, pocketed his wand and headed out the door, turning immediately to head down to the dungeons.

His plan? He didn't have one. Attempt to stand on the other side of the room looking vaguely Draco-shaped in the hopes that the Snape would confess whatever he was going to? It wasn't one of his better plans, then again, he hadn't had much time nor sleep to think it through. And if worst came to worse, he'd simply duel the letch. Harry didn't know. Harry didn't care. Harry was filled with a blindingly angst-filled fury that was more than enough to distract him from the silvery-haired man that stepped from the shadows and slipped into the room he'd just vacated.


	16. Run

Unlike Draco, Theodore Nott didn't find the Dark Lord's practices of allowing his followers to be dragged off to Azkaban to be horrific in the least. In fact, he'd thought it was quite justified in spite of the fact that the policy took his father, his only visible means of support, from him. But the Death Eaters quickly made arrangements for the orphaned boy because unlike Malfoy with his apparent disdain, Nott had shown nothing but willingness and interest in joining the ranks as soon as he could.

When Draco spoke of his old friend Nott to Harry in the library, he had glossed over quite a bit when he said they had gone their separate ways. The weedy boy had always been somewhat difficult for Draco to play nicely with. He was every inch the misanthrope that Draco had labeled him to Goyle as. In other words, he would make for a perfect Death Eater.

Nott had led the charge to attack Draco and had been one of those temporarily blinded. Sadly for him, that was the first and last time he'd really managed to rally the House. He simply didn't have the natural charisma that Draco had, and he certainly didn't have the reputation of ruthlessness that Draco had cultivated to back it up. It wasn't just dark arts that commanded followers unless you had the absolute power that Voldemort did. You had to have the cunning ability to make people believe that doing your bidding was _their_ idea. Draco had that ability in spades.

What galled Nott more than his inability to direct Slytherin House, which he had been instructed to do by order of the Dark Lord in order to earn his Mark, was that Malfoy was parading around like a celebrity. Isolation for other boys might have been traumatizing and painful. But Draco knew how to spin it. He lorded his private room over other students and when they looked the least bit ornery, he'd invoke the power of his Prefect's badge and dock points.

One of the few times Draco was shuffled off by some students who were ready to wreak some havoc on his fun, Harry happened around the corner and things were broken up rather quickly. All in all, Draco traversed the school with impunity and on nights he wasn't chatting with Snape, Harry visited him for a shag and bonding. He was living like a rock star and he recklessly mentioned it whenever he had the chance.

So, when Nott received the message that Voldemort wished him to allow Lucius Malfoy into the castle, he was more than willing to do his duty. Nott led Lucius through one of the many secret underground passageways that led into the Slytherin dorms in order to rid the world of the irritating blood-traitor. While Draco had somewhat protected his childhood friend from suspicion twice, Nott did not feel honor bound to return the favor and had let the elder Malfoy in confident he could get the job done.

\--

Lucius hadn't really noticed the blond hair or much about the figure leaving the room. He merely took the opportunity to place his foot in the door to stop its closing and possible latching. If he'd realized whom it was heading down the corridor unawares, he could have easily had his shot at Potter's back with no retaliation. Instead he found himself in a rather small and dim room looking at the sleeping form of his only child.

For a moment he simply stood there in shock, not sure what he should do. Should he chase after what had to be Potter? His jaw tensed and flexed as he weighed his options, feeling repulsed at the idea that his son was cavorting with his enemy. He could still smell sex in the air, and was disgusted to observe that his son hadn't bothered to clean or clothe himself after his shameful copulation.

He closed his eyes and shook his head as his emaciated hand pushed into his cloak to pull out his wand. Lucius's hand shook in spite of himself. Raising his wand to his only child, his own flesh and blood was harder than it seemed on paper. Even for a Death Eater. Taking a step forward, he reminded himself that this was necessary. If he didn't do it, someone else would. At least he could be merciful, even if the disappointing boy didn't necessarily deserve mercy after his actions.

There was no time to waste, a distant part of Lucius's brain reminded him. He tried not to think of the his son as a toddler, his head a mass of ringlet curls, who would refuse to wear anything but his diaper and mysteriously a silk scarf in the summer. The endearing way his son would bring him flowers he yanked from the garden, in a gesture he'd early on learned that his mother enjoyed, when Lucius was upset with the Ministry. No, it was no use thinking about these things. There was work to be done. Sadly, Lucius began the stream of words that formed the incantation to break the sanctuary spell. Could he do this? Could he kill his son? Perhaps he could talk him into killing Harry with him. Redeem himself to the Dark Lord.

The sound of murmured words awoke Draco from what had otherwise been a fairly dull dream. His first thought upon awaking was that Harry was not there. His hand flopped and groped over the sheets as if he needed some sort of tactile confirmation that he was now alone in the bed. The second thought was that the voice he heard behind him didn't belong to his lover. _It was his father's voice_. "Father?" he asked dumbly, not having all of his wits about him on first awakening.

"Draco," responded his father as he stepped into the wavering light of the single candle left lit in the room. The boy looked curiously up at his father for a few bewildering moments, wondering how he had gotten there and where Harry was. Was Harry dead? Had he been called away? Why was he here alone? Well, not exactly alone, was he? He was in the room with his father. Although he was more anxious for Harry's welfare than expecting that the boy should be there to protect him. Protect him. Draco had to be protected from his own father. The idea of it made him feel strangely ill as he gazed blearily up at the older man.

"I had rather expected that I would come upon Mr. Potter in here, but it was you I would rather meet with anyhow. My, my Draco, not only a queer but taking up with a half blood. Tell me, do you love him?" asked Lucius, edgy for having to ask such a thing. His only son, his heir, the future of Malfoy was a queer. It shamed him; it was almost as vexing as the idea of love in the first place. Still, Draco was a sly boy. Perhaps he could see past this little wrinkle to spare his own life.

Draco perked a brow as his glare remained steady. He would not dignify that with an answer. Would he have gone this far if he didn't love Harry? He knew what his father was getting at. This conversation seemed almost inevitable. He was headed to an ultimatum. Why else would he still be alive if his father truly intended to kill him? But Draco kill Harry? No, that wasn't happening. He'd die first. His jaw clenched and flexed as he peripherally tried to sort out where his wand was.

"I see. And you clearly gave no thought to how your mother and I would fare by your decision," Lucius spat. "Or even what jeopardy it would put your own life into?"

Carefully, Draco started to sit up on the bed, still not saying a word. He was clocking the man, watching him carefully. Shifting his weight as he propped his lithe frame against his left hand, he looked down for a moment to check that his sheets were covering him adequately; taking the moment to see that his wand was, indeed, on the nightstand. Quicksilver eyes fled up to meet his father's without registering his new awareness.

"Such a shame. I had high hopes for you. I was working to make this world a better place for you and your children and this... this is how you repay me. Silent indignation. Tell me, will you die for your Potter? Will you suffer a torturous end still faithful to him? When I hurt you, will his name be the one you cry out for? When you die, will his name be as sweet on your lips? Draco, it is...this feeling, it is just an illusion. He holds no true bonds to you. He is not your blood. He's even left you here," Lucius pointed out, enjoying the expression of uncertainty he saw flit across the youthful face before him. "Yes, he left of his own free will. I stepped in as he carelessly walked out of the room, heading who knows where? To another lover, perhaps?"

This was cruel, beyond cruel, but not completely unanticipated. Lucius was a ruthless man who would use any means necessary. Draco wished that his father would get on with killing him rather than having to sit there with his self-doubt displayed under scrutiny. Immediately the man had found the smallest insecurity in him and had exploited it. The adolescent started to falter and look around the room uncertainly. "Where did he go?" he asked uselessly. He wondered for a moment if he could fake a dramatic wail and grab for his wand. To find out where Harry was, Draco was going to have to live through this. He couldn't think about where his lover was right now, he just tried to comfort himself with the belief that Harry wouldn't leave capriciously. Still, it gnawed at him. Finally he elected to just flop against the pillow again, hoping his father would make a mistake closing in on what he believed was weak prey. Then perhaps he could retrieve his wand? He didn't know. All he did know was that given where his father was, he was already at a severe disadvantage. Drawing him closer might change that. It was a big risk, but Draco had nothing to lose.

\--

The walk down to the dungeons seemed surprisingly short to Harry. As he walked down, he ran through several different scenarios in his head. None of them seemed to entail Snape truly believing that the bespectacled now-blond boy was actually Malfoy. He rolled his eyes at himself for the stupid disguise and wasted time. Excusing himself that he hadn't been in his right mind when he chose to do that, he turned the final corner and saw the light under the door. Snape was in. Pumping his fist as he rehearsed yet another internal dialogue rife with righteous indignation, he found himself in front of the door.

After a moment of consideration, he decided to throw down the hood and he slammed the flats of his palms onto the door and thrust the heavy wood with a deafening wail of overburdened hinges. "Where are you, Snape?" he shouted out to the echoing room as if he were an American cowboy calling out a villain for the final duel.

Snape was still hunched over his desk, dealing with the pain of the Cruciatus curse. The red ink had spilled over the desk, drenching the papers as well as Snape's face and hands, which made the professor appear in more dire straits than he was. Though by no stretch of the imagination was he comfortable. His head was pounding, his teeth felt jarred. Everything in his body still ached. He wasn't positive, but he thought maybe even his hair hurt. However, it would have all been worth it if the blond who had just entered his classroom had been Draco. Alas, though it took a few floundering seconds to pry his sodden jowl off of the desk to match the voice with the untidy platinum hair, that was unmistakably Harry Potter and not his protègè. "Potter? What are you doing here?" questioned Snape, his voice husky with distress.

"Surprised to see me, hm? I thought you might be. Leave Dra- What in the-what happened?" shrieked Harry as he quickly closed the distance between him to help the man. Harry was a lot of things, but first and foremost, he was a Gryffindor, and he wasn't indifferent to other people's pain. Particularly when it looked as if Snape was bleeding from every pore in his face. "What happened here?" he tried again, his shock managed to end the weak glamour on his hair, turning it back to black, although he was still in Slytherin colors, much to Snape's minor annoyance.

"Where is he?" snapped Snape as he found some inner strength he didn't know he had. The sudden rush of adrenaline gave him enough strength to push himself up off of the desk to sit back in his chair. Harry rushed off to grab a rag and came back and tried to offer it to Snape, having no idea of the urgency of time in this situation. "Stop it, Potter, it's ink," he grunted, "Where is Draco?"

"In his room asleep, still under the delusion that you're not a creepy pederast. What are you playing at with this, Snape? What is this?" Harry hissed as he indicated the ink and Snape's shattered condition, gesturing with the rag crossly. "A little hurt and comfort? Play injured and then see if Draco would love you? That's pathetic, even for you!"

"Asleep? Alone? In his room?"

"Yes, he's in his room _safe and sound_ from the likes of you! He thinks of you as a father, do you know how disgusting your proposition would be to him?" chided Harry, looking triumphant at the look of panic on Snape's face. "That's right. A _father_!"

" _His_ father--" intoned Snape, trying desperately to inform Harry about Lucius being in the castle.

"Yes, _his_ father, he thinks of you as his father!" Harry interrupted as if Snape were being intentionally obtuse on this point.

"His father is headed for his-" Snape broke off.

"What?" asked Harry as his eyes cast over the man's visage. It was slowly dawning on Potter that there might be something other than pedophiles at play here.

"His father... _Lucius Malfoy_ is here... and he's headed for..." panted Snape in his terror.

"HIS ROOM?" shouted Harry.

"Well, he... I..."

"YOU SENT HIS FATHER TO HIS ROOM? YOU _TOLD_ HIS FATHER HOW TO FIND HIM?" screeched the Gryffindor.

Snape nodded tersely.

"YOU... YOU... THERE ARE NO... WHY?" shrieked Harry. Holding his hand out with his index finger up, he mouthed wordlessly for a moment as if he were vowing a painfully deadly end to the man in black, but there were no words, as there was no time. Realizing this, Harry turned quickly to tear back out the door.

\--

Lucius made his way across the room and sat down warily on the bed. He knew his son too well. He almost felt guilty at how easy it had been to cast doubt about his lover. But that was the nature and fragility of love. Perhaps Potter had cheated on him before. Lucius didn't know, nor did he care at the moment. Love made you weak, and this display was the proof of it. He pulled the sheet up over the porcelain arc of his son's limber back and then patted at his covered shoulder blade. "Take heart, Draco. The boy... is likely rather capricious. He was raised by Muggles, after all," he said, trying to soothe what he interpreted as a weak and wrecked heart. "But this is the nature of love, son. Why I have warned you from it. It is an emotion that cannot be trusted any more than a frivolous boy can be trusted. It is tragic that you became so wound up in this. Likely it is the folly of youth. There is, however, a way that you can possibly redeem yourself within the circle and avenge your aching heart," he drawled.

Lying there with his eyes closed, Draco clenched his teeth in irritation against his father's words and touch. His anger brewed and grew at his each syllable. So much of his life had been spent under the delusion that his father loved him. Oh, he knew what his father said about love, but up until this point he had believed it only applied to _other_ people. Draco had always believed that his father loved him. Now he knew that all his father regarded him as was an heir. Draco was his blood, and that was all that bound them.

A bind of blood was just that, a genetic and physical tie. Without the emotion of love, those you were genetically derived from meant nothing but a name on a birth record and a legal obligation to raise, if that. To be a _father_ , you had to feel love. By Lucius's own admission, he did not feel such a thing. Or if he did, he considered it weakness and repressed it. The shock of the truth about his father's feelings towards the youth steeled him to what he would have to do. His heart was, indeed, broken and it would be avenged. He would not be killing the boy who loved him, and his father would not be doing it either. If he were going to end this with his father, he'd have to play along, he realized. "How?" his muffled whimper sounded from the pillow.

"When he comes back, Draco, end him. If you end him, then you will have proved yourself to the Lord. He will no doubt be pleased and lift his orders for you to be killed," purred the older man, stroking up and down his son's back. "Remember what I taught you about love, Draco. Remember the dove? That lesson strengthened you, didn't it boy? This will as well."

"I do, Father, I remember the dove," whispered Draco as he slowly started to push himself up, swirling the sheet modestly around himself. He remembered it all to well, and the lesson that came with it. "Sometimes," rationalized Draco as he turned to sit cross-legged on the bed, turned towards his elder. Though his anger towards his father blazed deep within him, he still ached to look at the older man. He loved his father. He'd grown up admiring him, wanting to be strong like him. Now he knew that the admiration wasn't mutual, it never had been. Further, now that Draco had found someone he did love, this man was threatening to take it away. To Draco, the path was clear. Not knowing of the prophecy, as far as the youth was concerned, his father may well kill his lover. Draco's eyes hardened with an eerie determination. "Things that are too sick and dirty to live, must be put down even if we love them with every fiber of our beings, because in that case, love is weakness," somberly said Draco.

"Then you understand what must be done and why. You are going to kill?" asked Lucius, his cold eyes scanned over the boy. He did care for the boy as far as he really could. Of course, even if Draco did kill Harry, should the Lord require Draco's blood, Lucius would take it in a heartbeat. He was still young enough to start with a new heir, he reasoned. No real purpose to fall on the sword for this boy, sweet boyhood memories notwithstanding. Another toddler would likely be just as sweet. Perhaps he could start its teaching sooner. Narcissa did rather poison this boy with useless sentimentality.

"I will kill Father, yes," murmured Draco as he reached out his long, pale arms and wrapped them around his father's neck, pulling his body closer to the man by unfolding his legs and standing on his knees on the bed. He held his father tightly and in response, his father turned his torso and hugged his son back.

"I'm proud of you, son, you have learned the folly of loving something so useless," stated Lucius, feeling hope that this boy could redeem himself. Should the plan work as he hoped and the Lord allowed the boy to live, he would be that much stronger having made this sacrifice. Draco would be a far more worthy Malfoy heir: strong, proud, and cold-blooded.

"I have," whispered Draco as he moved back to kiss his father's cheek softly. His hands cupped his father's face as he looked into his father's grey eyes. "I love you, Father," he whispered to him and then, with a sudden and hard clenching of his biceps and a lurching motion with his wrists to lag his father's head forward and to the side, he heard a louder, but similar sickening crack of a neck breaking.

When Lucius Malfoy's life ended, the hole he had magically punched in the Sanctuary spell ended. Draco's actions were assessed as threatening and he was thrown back violently. The spell caught the Slytherin at the abdomen, shoving him bent double against the frame of the headboard, bruising his lower back, making him shriek. His left arm lurched back wildly, catching the post of the bed at the forearm, which resulted in the bone shattering, eliciting another scream. That vociferation was cut off by the hard thud of the back of his head smashing against the wall. The final blow broke open the skin on the back of his head and knocked Draco mercifully unconscious.

On the wall was an odd spray of blood from the blow that smeared from the tendrils of Draco's flaxen hair dragging over it as he bounced from the point of impact back down onto the bed. He landed back down on the mattress, arms and legs askew with his forearm twisted at a queer angle. His hair covered over his otherwise peaceful face as the oozing blood trickled down the strands of his hair and soaked the sheets. Lucius's body had lifelessly lagged forward and slid down face-first onto the floor. He was sprawled out head towards the door, still holding his wand uselessly as his platinum hair splayed out over the stone floor. Though it broke his nose to land like that, his stilled blood did not flow as freely and left only a small puddle just under his face.

\--

The trip down had seemed rather short, but in Harry's panic, getting back up to Draco's room was stretching to an eternity. Each step further filled him with dread for what he was going to walk in on. Would Lucius have killed Draco? Stolen him away? He tried desperately not to think of Draco's despair in waking to not only find Harry absent but his murderous father standing there as well. How could he have been so careless? Thoughtless? No, he knew why. He had a reason and that reason's name was Severus Snape. What further irked him was that that reason was paced only a few yards behind him. "Coming... to see... what your... lecherous... behavior... has... wrought?" Harry panted out as he desperately turned the last corner.

Snape would've responded but he was too horribly winded. Keeping pace with a boy less than half his age was hard enough on a good day. However today he was lucky he could walk, let alone run. He speculated that it must have been adrenaline that kept him going. Adrenaline from his fear and concern and his immense guilt for his part in what was to come.

Then they both heard it. Two horrid screams of pain, the second of which was frightfully cut off. The sound stilled Snape, but inspired Harry to an anxious burst of speed to the room. Uttering the incantation in a shrill vocalization to get himself inside, he threw open the door. First he saw Lucius's limp body flattened against the stone floor, but what stopped his heart was Draco's body tangled strangely in the bloodstained sheets. At the base of his spine was a blossoming red mark that was slowly purpling. However, more alarming than that was the matted mass of now bright red hair from Draco's head injury. The blood flowed quickly and trickled down the back of his neck and over his fretless features.

"No!" panted Harry as he hopped over Lucius figuring that if the man wasn't already dead; Harry would see to it that he shrugged off this plane of existence shortly. Given the crooked angle of his head, however, Harry doubted he'd have to deal with him. "Draco?" Harry tried.

His tentative hands had barely reached his lover's skin when he heard a sharp, "Don't move him!" Snape stood in the doorway gripping the frame with one arm, gasping for air frantically, looking markedly more pallid than usual. Snape's arm was extended in a gesture meant to stop Harry from doing anything stupid or dramatic that might further injure Draco.

"Go AWAY! Haven't you done enough?" spat Harry as he heatedly turned his back on the older man. Catching a glimpse of the way Draco's forearm curved, he bit his lip and noted the break. His outstretched hand moved out to gently touch the boy's back, relieved to find it warm. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the unconscious boy, fighting back the tears of worry.

In spite of Harry's words, Snape had stepped into the room, brushing past Harry, and pressed two fingers to the side of Draco's neck. "He's alive, his pulse is strong," he said with unmitigated relief.

"I have sent for Madam Pomfrey," said an aged voice from the door that caused Harry and Snape to jump and whip their heads around hastily. Dumbledore gave them both a stern look over his wire-framed glasses. "When she gets here, I expect someone will explain to me why I have a dead Death Eater and an injured student in a Fidelius-protected room?"


	17. Strange

"I shouldn't be here! I don't know anything! I don't have time for this, and if Draco wakes up alone again I'll-" shouted Harry as he stormed angrily around Dumbledore's spacious office, eyeing the shiny instruments that he'd once chaotically thrown around the room after his godfather's death.

"Harry!" snapped Dumbledore. "Sit and settle down. He's still unconscious and his bones are mending. It is unlikely he will awaken any time soon. Sit."

"Will he be all right?" Harry asked fretfully as he rushed back to the desk as if Dumbledore had all of the answers and could fix this situation with a wave of his wand. Snape sat back agonizingly in the squashy chair in front of Dumbledore's desk sipping on a warmed generalized healing and numbing potion to try and ease his muscles that were aching from the Cruciatus curse. He vigilantly blotted his face in an attempt to rub off the remnants of the bright red ink that stained his face making him appear either extremely aggravated or absolutely embarrassed.

Dumbledore sighed at going over this again; Harry was in the Infirmary when Poppy explained the unpredictable nature of Draco's injuries. "The brain is a mysterious thing, Harry. However, Draco is responsive to pain stimuli which means he is in a fairly light state of unconsciousness. This shouldn't take but a few minutes if we can all calm down and go over this rationally. Then you can be right back down there. Now, let's take this from the beginning," he said as he looked over the worried Gryffindor and gestured for him to sit. For the first time he noticed that Harry was wearing half of a Slytherin uniform, which was curious, but not particularly troubling. Wardrobe mishaps happened.

With a loud and rather put out huff, Harry fell into the chair near Snape and gave the man a viperous glare. He slapped his hands down on his knees and chuffed again at the momentary silence, wanting this to be over with. Dumbledore, however, was not going to continue until Harry sat still and seemed relatively settled. Watching the boy over the rims of his glasses, he finally gave a nod and looked between them expectantly. "So, first thing is first, Lucius Malfoy got into the castle. I assume neither of you allowed him in?"

Clearing his throat, Snape sat forward in his seat to engage in the conversation more actively. "I was grading papers when he arrived. How he got into the castle is a mystery to me. He interrupted me very unexpectedly. He greeted me as a brother," Snape said, pausing now to quickly rerun how he was going to present his story. This was do or die time for him. No one else could prove or disprove what happened in the office. The only thing that might cast suspicion was how well he stuck by his story. "Not wishing to compromise my standing as a spy for the Order, I heard him out. He had come on orders of the Dark Lord to avenge his wife's death and Death Eaters in general by murdering his son. I attempted to talk him out of it, but he would hear none of it."

Pausing for a moment to rewet his throat with more of the steaming potion, he glanced at Harry who was listening with rapt attention. The boy's emerald eyes looked pained, no doubt thinking of how terrible it would be to have your father so willing to sacrifice you to his ideology. Snape gave the boy a brief nod, which only served to exasperate Harry into sulkily averting his eyes with the irritation that he needed to be near this man to find out what was going on. "Go on, Severus," Dumbledore encouraged, making note of the interaction, although tension between the Gryffindor student and the Slytherin head of house was nothing new.

"He was, of course, asking me to reveal where the boy was located. I attempted to talk him out of acquiring this knowledge and even, for a time, had him talked into my writing a note to get Draco to come down. I warned him that Draco was not alone in his room and that there was an obvious and inherent danger in confronting the two boys together. I had him convinced to allow me to write a note to Draco to have him come down alone, rather hoping that in the interim that I could either find a way to detain him or signal you. I had also rather hoped that the strangeness of the request would have been enough to goad Draco into seeking help. He is not generally one to charge into situations alone. Nor did I reasonably believe that Potter would allow Draco to come down to the room alone. It was a gamble, I readily admit, but I was pressed for time and at a bit of a loss for a way to preserve my cover as well as protect the children. My priority was on protecting them, of course, but things took a rather... unpredictable... turn," he drawled as he glared over at Harry.

"You know why! You know exactly why I came down there alone! You pedophile! Letch!" Harry exclaimed as his hands came up and slapped down on the arms of the chair for emphasis. "I thought you were just trying to get Draco alone so you could... do whatever you... think about doing... you... sick... _bastard_!" he choked out nervously, glancing now and then at Dumbledore as if the language he was using would be any more disturbing than his accusation.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to break up the tension between the rivals. His gaze went from one to the other and back again. "Pedophile? That is a very serious charge to levy against Professor Snape, Harry. Do you know of something untoward between he and another student?" questioned Dumbledore who appeared calmly concerned.

"He... he's... he touches Draco!" argued Harry.

"Touches?" asked Dumbledore, his brows were up in alarm and his hands dropped to his desk in shock.

"I do no such thing!" insisted Snape.

"I... err... I mean he hugged him! And he touches his shoulder...all the time!" Harry shouted the last three words for emphasis, as if the force of his vocalizations would make the allegations sound more severe. Although even Harry understood that without being there and understanding the context, it sounded rather hysterical.

While Dumbledore realized that any sort of contact that the stoic Snape offered was unusual, that particular sort of touching wasn't exactly noteworthy. "Harry," started Dumbledore gently.

"I saw it! I saw in his mind! When he was testing me for Occlumency! I saw he was... he had... he was thinking that..." carried on Harry, trying to explain something that was so subtle and ill-defined that it was nearly impossible to prove, he realized. But Dumbledore just had to believe him. He had to!

"Of course I have been kinder to him, Potter," Snape condescended as if speaking to a very young and distressingly slow child. "His mother was just murdered. He had to go through a great deal to ensure his safety and furthermore worked hard to get your learning set up. I will not argue that we have bonded since this ordeal began, but I can assure you that it is strictly on a platonic level. I see him as a son, and as you _bellowed_ at me downstairs, he sees me as a father. That manner of company is something that he is likely to need, particularly given what has just happened," said Snape as he sat up a little straighter in his chair, seeing that he was gaining ground as Harry was looking increasingly helpless under Dumbledore's scrutiny.

"As for what you think you saw in my head, though you do not deserve a response to it, seeing as you seem so vexed by it, I shall explain it to you. Draco's movements distracted me and so I looked up at him, which is when you broke in. I was attracted... to a ring he often wears with the Slytherin insignia. I will admit to coveting the ring, it is very rare and far too costly for me to acquire on my own. That is what I was attracted to. You may rest assured I have no designs on your... _boyfriend_ ," sneered Snape.

While both Snape and Harry realized how false this testimony was, Dumbledore had no means to comprehend the vulgarity of this lie. Had Draco been there, he might have been able to verify that he hadn't been wearing his ring that day, as he didn't wear it very often. It was too bulky and tended to bang on things, much to his annoyance. So he only wore it on special occasions when he wished to rub his wealth or Slytherin-ness in someone's face. As his purposes that day were far from that, he was ring-less. This little fact was too arcane for him to have shared with anyone and was far too petty to tell Harry about, as the boy would likely disapprove. So Harry was left with nothing but a gaping mouth of incredulity at the stream of falsehoods that left Snape's mouth. "You.... YOU KNOW THAT ISN'T TRUE! YOU AND I KNOW WHAT I SAW!" Harry shrieked in his defense as he shoved himself up out of his seat.

This response was not unanticipated. In fact, Snape relished how easy it was to goad Harry into teen angst ranting. The potions master cowered under the bellowing and aggressive movements as if he were afraid of being attacked again. In truth, he was a bit afraid that Harry would raise his hand, but the pain would be worth it to see Dumbledore's golden boy so shamed. "Harry. Sit down this instant. Professor Snape has explained his side of things. Do you have any other proof of misconduct?" Dumbledore asked as his pointed finger directed Harry back to his seat.

Still glaring at the quailing teacher, Harry retreated and fell back into his own seat seething with pubescent rage, "No."

"If we are done exploring Potter's relationship neurosis, I'd like to finish this so that I may heal?" intoned Snape.

"Of course, Severus. I do not mean to keep you from your chambers capriciously. I just wish to get the facts as straight as possible so that I may make a proper report of the events to the Ministry. You may yet have to answer them afterwards, this is strictly preliminary, you understand," responded Dumbledore, moving on before Harry exploded over Snape's statement.

"My chambers? I thought it might be wise to stay under observation in the Infirmary," Snape stated smoothly. "I was injured after all..."

"I think that given the... emotional... nature of the parties involved, it would be best if you stayed in your own room. Should you feel unwell, I'm certain you can make your way back, but given the current status of your symptoms, rest is likely what you need. Someplace quieter than the Infirmary is better for that, and what place is quieter than your chambers in the dungeon?" questioned Dumbledore diplomatically.

"Are you so certain that Draco will wish to have Potter there keeping him company? After all, the boy _did_ leave him at a crucial moment," slurred Snape, causing Harry to shift uncomfortably as he waited for Dumbledore to agree and send him back to his dorm.

"If I'm not mistaken, Severus, _you_ were the one who broke the Fidelius charm by telling Lucius where his room was. I would say the boy has ample reason to be annoyed with the both of you," stated Dumbledore bluntly.

"But I was tortured!" protested Snape as he felt hot with Harry's glare at him.

"And Harry was disillusioned with his belief that you were trying to get Draco alone for nefarious purposes. He went there in an attempt to protect him, did he not? Misguided though it was, his motives were pure, were they not?" pointed out the aged headmaster. "You gave up Draco's location to save your own skin, or so it would appear."

Snape paled at this accusation. This was something he hadn't planned on and upon reflection, was a huge hole in his plan. Likely he missed it precisely because he was a Slytherin rather than a Gryffindor. It made perfect sense to him that after some torture he'd give up the information. A Gryffindor, however, would die before letting such information slip. He burned with the peripheral vision of Harry's beaming smile. "But I'm _like his father_!" tried Snape.

"It would seem that you are _much_ like Lucius, yes," said Dumbledore with an edge of caustic uncouthness that made the point that as he saw it, both men would sell the boy out to cover themselves in the end.

The potions master wanted to argue this, but how could he without further entrapping himself? Explaining that the plan was really to get Potter to kill Lucius for him, eliminating his problem of his Death Eater cover and driving a wedge between the two boys, sounded entirely worse than the poor judgment he was accused of having now. It would likely also bring back up that nasty allegation of his improper feelings for Draco, which would be thorny to explicate. "Very well then. I will stay in my chambers. Is that all?" asked Snape.

"I believe I have the idea of what happened next, the Unforgivable hex followed by your breaking the Fidelius which forced Draco into the unenviable position of committing patricide," Dumbledore said uniformly.

"Potter left him there," asserted Snape.

"Yes. We've gone over his motivation for doing so, and I believe he deserves a chance to explain that to Draco himself. Which he will get when the boy awakens," stated Dumbledore as he sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap.

Snape paled, "You will... let Draco believe that...."

"There is no proof such an attraction exists, Harry will simply be explaining his suspicions and motivations for leaving. What Draco believes is the truth of it is up to him. You will have your own opportunity to talk with Draco. You are not forbidden to visit with him, unless he doesn't wish to see you," said Dumbledore, looking rather interested in Snape's strange behavior. His eyes darted over to Harry, who seemed to be consoled. Whatever was going on, Harry seemed to certainly construe Snape as a threat. Though the teacher was acting somewhat suspicious, he was a peculiar man and in the end, there was nothing concrete.

Watching the elderly man's responses and apprehensive look, Snape decided that it was better to resign himself now rather than to risk a Potter-like display that would be telling and accomplish nothing. "Very well," Snape said as he pulled the mug of potion to his lips and took the last swig. Leaning forward, he clapped the cup down and stood up. "If that is all?"

"It is for now. I believe the rest of the story would come from Draco, who is not able to provide it. Unless... did either of you see anything when you entered the room?" Dumbledore asked, although he was certain that if the two had come in before everyone was unconscious they would have acted.

"No sir," Harry piped up, sounding almost chipper. Though he'd been rather riddled with guilt for leaving Draco on such an irrational errand, he was heartened by how Dumbledore saw it. He really had been looking out for Draco's best interests. Harry simply didn't have all of the facts to know it was not only a red herring, but it was a distraction from the real danger. Only Snape knew everything, and he had gambled everyone's lives. Harry was a bit worried about breaking this news to Draco, however. He wasn't sure the boy would believe Snape's intentions. However, now Harry was wondering if it even mattered if Draco did. Snape had certainly defamed himself in Dumbledore's eyes with this ploy. Hopefully Draco would feel the same way. It saddened Harry that the boy would be losing another hero, but in the end, perhaps the lesson for Draco was to place your faith in better people. Harry vowed to himself to endeavor to be one of those people Draco could count on. "They were both unconscious or dead when we got there. I heard a couple of Draco's screams as we were running up, but that was all."

Dumbledore nodded sadly and let out a long and sad breath. "I know you both have Draco's best interests at heart. I would hope that you would do your best not to vent your frustrations with one another at him. He has now taken a human life. This is very serious, not only from a psychological standpoint, but also a legal one."

Harry's eyes widened at Dumbledore and he sat forward in his seat. Snape clutched the back of the chair that he'd been sitting in as he leaned in. This was something they had not thought of in their bickering and hurt feelings. "What do you mean, Headmaster?" Harry asked barely above a whisper.

"It will depend on how the Ministry sees it. Whether Lucius Malfoy was an actual threat to Draco when his life was taken. Given the position of his father with his wand out, it does lead to a scenario of self-defense. However, the brutal nature of how the man was killed, by hand no less, there will be questions of how Draco got so close and whether Lucius was an imminent threat," pointed out the aged wizard as his hand stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully. "I shall do my best to sway the Ministry. Given Lucius's odd humor and erratic changing of instructions to Snape, going from greeting him as a friend and then torturing him after enacting the original plan, it should not be too difficult." The headmaster's eyes fixed on Snape who nodded and looked down. At least his bizarre plan and cover story would be good for something if it got Draco off the hook with the Ministry, Snape reasoned.

Sick with this new worry, Harry slowly stood and nodded to Dumbledore, sensing this was time for them to leave so Dumbledore could make his report to the Ministry. Again he felt the pang of guilt for leaving Draco alone to face his father as he pictured his lover's face as he tried to explain all of this. "Remember, no matter what comes of the Ministry's findings, the bottom line when it comes to young Malfoy is that he has endured much loss, including having to kill his own father. His grief over this loss will be agonizing. The questions from the Ministry will likely frustrate him. I plead with you not to suffer him your petty bickering," said Dumbledore as he leaned forward and started to arrange the quill and parchment before him as he set himself to the task of writing his report. "I shall be by the Infirmary in the morning to check on him. I bid you both a good evening."

With that final nod of dismissal, Harry and Severus silently left the office and without so much as an irritated glare at the other, went their separate ways. Both of them were riddled with guilt for the parts they played in the impossible situation Draco was in. They took up their stations: Harry by Draco's bed, Snape pacing in his chambers, to await the youthful Slytherin's awakening.


	18. Simple Things

"Draco, please... I'm so sorry I left you. I didn't know. Just wake up. Wake up please, Draco," Harry whispered, clutching the wan and chilly hand. This had been going on for at least half an hour. At first Harry had been just sitting there doing some homework, and occasionally he looked up at his lover hoping to see him stir. Then he read to him, mostly Shakespearean Sonnets.

Draco couldn't help that he wanted to continue hearing Harry reading to him. It was entirely too sweet. Then came the pleading, which had been satisfying at first. Draco loved to hear that he was loved, but Harry failed to move satisfactorily into the explanation and bargaining phase and therefore wasn't providing any useful information. So Draco decided now was a good time to stage his awakening.

"If you're going to insist on prattling on like that while I'm trying to rest, at least do something useful. Sing me a song," Draco vocalized as his grey eyes drowsily flickered open and the barest of weary smiles appeared at the corners of his mouth. His feet were propped up over several pillows to encourage him to rouse, but the first time that his eyes had fluttered open, he simply saw Pomfrey flitting about which didn't seem worth staying awake for.

Of course aside from the advantages of listening to Harry speak to him and avoiding small talk with Pomphrey, being in and out of consciousness had given Draco some time to try and piece together what had happened. He clearly remembered killing Lucius. He remembered that sound... the way it cracked and this strange whooshing noise that had built up in his head at the shock and sickening surprise of his cold-blooded act. He had planned on staying with the body, crying over it, saying goodbye and telling his father how much he'd really loved and admired him.

Somehow that seemed to have been taken away by what he didn't remember. What he didn't know was how he had ended up here and at what point he'd lost consciousness. He vaguely remembered being thrown back and then something about believing his forearm was broken, but as he looked down at the hand in Harry's, he sussed that whatever had happened, it was mended now.

"A... a song?" asked Harry, breathless that Draco was awake. His hand clutched so tightly to Draco's that he was nearly crushing it. Then he yanked Draco's abused hand up to press against his cheek as Draco winced at the discomfort. Emerald eyes wide with concern, Harry wondered if this was perhaps some sort of delirium or a waking dream that Draco was having.

"You're familiar with the concept, I assume. I'm the one with a head injury, but I still understand what a song is," quipped Draco as his head rolled to the side and his eyes blinked open a bit wider now. On seeing Draco's wincing, Harry released the tension and Draco stretched out his index finger to stroke the clammy cheek of his lover.

Harry could feel his own grin broadening as the Slytherin began to appear as lucid as he was sounding. It just figured Draco could wake up from head trauma full of biting remarks. "You want me to sing to you?"

Draco visibly scanned as much of Harry as he could see, "Unless you're hiding bagpipes on you that I can't see, then yes, I'd like you to sing. However, if there are bagpipes hidden somewhere on your person I cannot see, will you marry me?"

Rolling his eyes at just how strangely perverse Draco could be, but grinning nevertheless at the flirtatious taunting, he replied, "I don't know any songs."

"Everyone knows at least one song, Harry," he said, trailing off as he coughed a little and then squeezed Harry's hand after they dropped their conjoined hands back down to the bed. The boy who lived reached out his other hand for the water sitting on the plain, sterile table next to Draco's bed. Slowly, Harry fed it to him with Draco weakly steadying it. After a few long draughts, he nodded to Harry to take it away.

"I really don't. Well... wait, I guess there is one," Harry said as he set the glass back down and put his now free hand on top of their entwined hands.

"Let's hear it," said Draco as he closed his eyes to prepare to be sung to. He didn't know why he'd requested this, other than that when he was sick his mother would hold his hand and sing to him. Perhaps now he was looking to someone else for that, as she no longer could. Although at times when he felt the tingling of his sadness just on the cusp of carrying him over to an emotional outburst over her passing, he fancied he could hear her lilting voice softly cooing to him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began the only song he could think of, "Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday-"

"It's not my birthday," Draco stated as his eyes opened again.

Harry sighed and squeezed Draco's hand, "It's the only song I know."

"No it's not, it...it's not the only song you know. I don't care whose cupboard you grew up in, you know more songs than that," surly Draco grumbled. "And you can barely carry that tune."

Harry couldn't help but let out a choked sob at Draco's sourness upon waking. Tears dribbled down his face, finally releasing the fear and the joy that Draco was going to be fine. Raising a shaking hand to push away the tears as he looked into the bleary silver eyes of his lover he did the only thing he could, snark back, "I didn't know you wanted a rock star for a boyfriend."

Draco's eyes didn't leave Harry's as he observed his lover's expressive release of his pent up feelings. Looking empathetically at Harry, he squeezed his hand back and tilted his head up to proclaim, "I don't want a rock star. I want a hero."

He couldn't stand the space between them anymore. Harry inclined forward, sliding most of his torso onto the cot and wrapped his arms around the shivering Slytherin. The golden boy rested his head lightly on the Draco's chest to listen to the strengthening heartbeat. "That I can be."

"Can you find me a hero who can carry a tune, though?" Draco asked dryly as he rubbed his chin against the untidy hair and then leaned his head down to kiss it.

"God, you're such an ass," the Gryffindor murmured into Draco's chest.

"I love it when you call me God."

"Pomfrey warned me you might sustain permanent brain damage."

"I suppose I'll have to be re-sorted into Gryffindor if my capacity is that diminished."

A statement like that out of anyone else's mouth, or even out of Draco's mouth at nearly any other time would've sent Harry straight for his wand in reactionary defense of his House. No passing Go, no collecting $200. But at this moment, he accepted that it just meant that Draco was going to be all right. Though he was pale and clammy still, he was mentally clear enough to taunt. "I'd ask how you were feeling," he said, still tucked against Draco's chest. "If you would shut up long enough for me to."

"Just a little sore," he answered through his amused smirk as he settled in his cheek atop the unruly mass of hair. "I kind of remember something about thinking my arm was broken, and it feels tender so I assume my bone mended. Must you fuck me so hard, Mr. Potter?" he said playfully.

Harry's eyes widened and he sat up to stare at Draco in shock, "You don't remember what happened?" He was breathy in surprise and his green eyes cast critically over Draco.

"Er... no, I remember," said Draco as he turned his head to the side and fixed his gaze on the half empty glass to avoid eye contact. Desperate not to think about what he had done, he changed the subject to something else that was bothering him. "Where did you go?"

"I..." Harry wasn't sure what to say at this point. Part of him wanted to tell Draco all about Snape and the lecherous things he saw in the man's head. Or thought he saw. Although in retrospect he hadn't seen much, had he? Just Snape's attraction to Draco, he didn't see the will to act on it. Damn Snape! The meeting and the way the potions master had twisted words and thoughts around had Harry doubting what he'd seen and felt. On top of it all, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to knock another of Draco's idols off of their pedestals. But what else could he say in answer? "I received a note from Snape and I was... following up on it." That was diplomatic enough, right?

Was that the other lover that his father had been talking about? Snape? No, that was silly, ridiculous even. Harry would never have such bizarre tastes as to opt for Snape rather than him. Had Harry seen the nose on that man? It was huge! And did he ever bathe? Not that Draco had ever noticed a particular odor about him, but Snape always seemed to be coated in some manner of slippery substance. Furthermore, the older teacher was nowhere near as attractive as Draco. Yet, Draco had doubts. "You went to see Snape? Is that... that why you were telling me he wasn't my friend?"

Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry nodded. Good then. Draco was every bit as savvy as he'd thought him to be. He'd done the math on his own thus putting Harry in the position as comforter rather than bearer of bad news. "Yes, that's exactly why, Draco. I'm... glad you've figured it out. I had no idea how to tell you."

It was a horrid nightmare. "Harry... I killed-and you... Snape?" he whimpered helplessly. He'd ruined everything in his life, changed his world for Harry Potter and the boy who lived was going to leave him for some middle-aged turncoat?

"I know, Draco. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about your father!" he whispered to him as he reached out to cling to his lover in an attempt to assuage his pain.

"No! It's not possible. How... how could you? You're... " Draco was puffing now and he could feel everything inside of him tumbling in on itself. He looked skyward for some sort of help. He hadn't cried for his father yet, he hadn't even had a moment to properly mourn his mother. And now Harry... Harry was leaving him for the man he thought enough of to consider a secondary father.

"I'm here, Draco, I'm here," Harry whispered as he clutched him. "I know you killed your father. I understand. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you." How could he not assume that Draco's hurt was over his father's death? Add to that Snape's betrayal that led to that loss for that terse emotion of lust? "I love you so much."

"Love me? How DARE you say that to me! You don't love me, you never did! You love that greasy old bat, and... ugh, why?" wailed Draco in the sort of heart wrenching and pathetic tone that actors had yearned to accomplish only to lose to a frantic blond boy who was fairly certain that heart break was audible. Was it shattering glass or was it a more blunt sound? Still, it seemed somehow clear and tangible and it stole his breath away.

"What?" Harry had no idea what to say to this explosion from Draco. He had to go back over the words a few times to try to resolve them into some form that might make sense. Ultimately, he still didn't quite understand, or perhaps he simply didn't want to. There were just some things that were beyond fathoming, and himself with Snape was one of them. "Me? Snape?"

"Stop, Harry, I can't... just... go. Go away. My... Oh!" cried out Draco as he felt anxiety coursing through him, an emotion that he didn't even know how to deal with. He wanted Harry dead. No... worse than dead... no, he couldn't hurt him, not even a hair on his head, could he? Oh but how he wanted him to ache like he was aching right now.

It would have been laughable if he weren't watching his lover experiencing unnecessary catastrophic spasms of heartbreak. "No, Draco! No! Draco... he sent a note to you. He wanted to see you alone in his chambers. And I thought... I didn't think your father was waiting for you. Draco, Snape... he's been..." Harry trailed off.

"Affectionate!" Draco finished for him exuberantly as if it had been vexing him on some level he hadn't been willing to admit to. Or at least he didn't think so much about the casual touching until he was urgently trying to make Snape look bad in his lover's eyes. "He's been touching me all the time. Rubbing my shoulders and patting my back!" the recovering boy exclaimed with surprising energy.

Sure now Draco could use this information to get Harry to fall out of love with Snape, Draco seemed to comprehend the lascivious intent behind it. Perhaps that was simply the way the Slytherin mind worked, Harry mused. Everything could be exploited when it was the proper time. He tried hard not to be offended by this.

"Yes, I was trying to point that out to you before, but somehow it didn't come through clearly," said Harry with as much tact as he could muster. Draco's hysterical blindness towards Snape's actions had been horridly frustrating. It felt good now that while he was in doubt there was a second opinion confirming his suspicions, even if the motive behind it was suspect. "The point is, I thought he wanted you in the dungeons to act inappropriately. So I left the room to let him know that he wasn't to touch you."

"That's so romantic!" gushed Draco, clearly not comprehending Harry not only had no interest in the greasy git, but that he'd spent the better part of their relationship paranoid that Draco would be the one to leave him for Snape. What did you say to that?

"I'm glad you think so. I just wish I hadn't gone off on that trip of stupidity. It left you alone. I never would have done that if-" Harry started.

Draco shushed him and enfolded Harry in his arms. "Please, please, please don't leave me Harry. I had to... my father wanted me to kill you. I could've... redeemed myself with the Dark Lord, but I just... I couldn't, Harry. And I couldn't let my father do it either! That's why... I had to...him... otherwise he would've killed you!"

It was strangely touching. On one hand, knowing that your life was tacitly threatened and that your boyfriend had to consider the possibility of ending your life was, well, intimidating. On the other hand, Draco flatly refused to do it. Furthermore he refused to allow his father to do it. Granted neither Malfoy was earmarked with the ability to kill him according to the prophecy. However, neither of them knew that little piece of the puzzle. It would be cruel of Harry to inform Draco now that his father couldn't have murdered him. The boy would struggle with the worry that he'd killed his father gratuitously for his whole life if he knew that, so Harry kept mum. "I'm honored that you'd... I know he was your father, Draco but he was--"

"I know, I know what he was, believe me. I didn't want to do it, but... he would have done it and I... I love you Harry. I couldn't, I just... couldn't let him--"

Buoyed by Draco's confession of why he'd killed his father, or possibly sensing that his lover was in a mental space to comprehend the flaws of those he admired, Harry blurted out what he was thinking, "Draco, I'm not seeing Snape. I never have. I just... that day with the test... I saw into his mind. He wanted you. It's been driving me crazy."

"Snape?" asked Draco as he squeezed Harry as you might a delusional child. "Fancies me?"

"Yes," Harry answered, oblivious to the condescending affection.

"Harry... even if he did, what, aside from a severe case of nausea on my part, did you think was going to happen?" Draco asked with as much sensitivity as he could muster.

"Well, you were on about how he was intelligent and sophisticated-"

"Yes, and also that I saw him like a father. I realize you didn't grow up with a father but most people don't harbor secret desires for them," stated Draco as he stroked his fingers up and down Harry's back. Perhaps it was a bit caustic, but he felt it needed to be said. Just how perverse did Harry think he was?

"Draco, that's... really... I mean, a big part of it was that I just didn't want you to lose him as your mentor," Harry confessed. "Not that I thought you were, um, like that."

"Well, if he's wanting to touch me inappropriately I don't think he's a particularly good role model to have. Although I'm not entirely sold on the idea that he does want to do that. But if he does... that's... well, not going to happen. What was the small part of it?" asked Draco as he started to slide his fingers lazily through Harry's hair.

"The small part?" asked Harry as he closed his eyes at the stroking.

"Well, you said that was the big part of the reason you didn't tell me was that you thought I needed an idol. What was the small part?"

"Oh," said Harry. He wasn't sure he should admit this. Why hadn't he phrased what he'd said earlier better? In his head this had all appeared rational, but now that he was plotting out how to explain it to Draco, it sounded exceptionally foolish and perhaps even offensive. "I thought you might prefer him."

"Prefer him? You thought that I'd leave you for him?" asked Draco, voice tight with incredulity. "I have-well for one I have much better taste than that, and for two, I've given everything up to be with you, Harry."

"You were forced to do that, though. Sometimes, I don't know if we'd still be together if... if you weren't... coerced," said Harry.

Draco's brows furrowed for a moment and his hand stilled in Harry's hair. Coerced? Perhaps. He hadn't really thought of it that way. "As I recall, before the Dark Lord decided to try to spice up our evening with a bit of breath play, I told you that I loved you."

"But then when we were in here, you made me call you Malfoy," Harry said as he shifted around on the cot so that he could look up into Draco's eyes.

"I do tend to get a bit testy after someone tries to kill me. Add to that trauma that my thoughtless behavior caused my mother... to..." Draco let out a big sigh at this and rolled his eyes, trying to remain in control and caustic through talking about his mother's slaying. He hated everything about huge emotional scenes, even when they were defensible. His jaw clenched a few times until he felt the paroxysm of feelings distance themselves enough that he could go on. "In any case, I still loved you, I just didn't trust you. Mostly I didn't trust that you, or rather the Dark Lord, wouldn't try to hurt me again. It was never in my head to find someone else, Harry. It was either going to be you or nobody, and as big of a nobody as Snape is, he wasn't in the picture."

"It's very rational when you say it like that. Although I feel like I should point out that a few minutes ago you thought I was going to leave you for Snape," Harry said giving a wry smile.

"Yes, well, I'm on loads of pain killing potions," he stated, tipping his haughty face upwards. "I'm not sure what your excuse is," he said as his hand moved from Harry's hair and gave a dismissive gesture to indicate that he was done with this topic of Snape and his nefarious intentions. "So, you were storming the castle to defend my honor, were you? That must've been quite a sight," said Draco as he smirked with an egotistical mischievousness at his lover.

"Oh you have no idea. I was practically ranting the whole way down, except that I couldn't make a sound in the corridors, so I could only mouth it. I had this whole righteous speech planned, several of them, actually. He wasn't going to get away with it. I would have him fired. At first I was going to let him think I was you and try to trick him into finding out what he was going to say, but halfway down I realized I look nothing like you even with blond hair and wearing your robes. In the end I decided I'd rather just tell him off," admitted Harry. He felt himself blushing at how asinine it all sounded now.

Beaming through his rather stunned look, Draco asked, "You had blond hair? And you stole my robes?" It was quite evident that Draco was working hard not to laugh at this idea. His silver eyes were scanning Harry's face trying to picture him with blond hair. It wasn't a flattering image.

"Yes, I used a glamour charm. I don't know. I thought maybe if I stayed in the shadows-"

"You were banking on either some really big shadows or Snape catching a sudden case of myopia, evidently," said Draco, still trying to repress his amusement.

"Look, why don't you try to be totally rational when you get a note addressed to your lover that says 'come and meet me alone, leave your tatty boyfriend upstairs,'" stated Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't happen. If someone so much as looks at you, I'll hex their eyes out and continue maiming them until they're quite out of the nervy letter writing business."

Although it was kind of a creepy threat, and given that Draco had just killed his own father over Harry, perhaps the boy should've felt more upset or threatened with that vow. It wasn't that he couldn't see Draco doing it. On the contrary, he could very much see it happening. Somehow, though, Harry really liked that Draco felt so passionately for him. "What if it's a professor?"

"I knew that McGonagall had her beady little eyes on you! Why, when I get out of this hospital-" threatened Draco with a jovial smirk.

"Eww, Draco!"

"Oh, so it's Hagrid, is it? I knew you were a size queen!"

Harry giggled and rolled his eyes before pinching Draco's bicep. "Stop it, you. I'm being serious."

"Ow! My injured arm!" wailed Draco theatrically.

For a moment, Harry's eyes widened in panic until he saw Draco looking rather smug. "Ass!"

"You love it," taunted Draco.

Harry again rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement with that assessment. How could he not? It was obvious he loved the little prat. Still, he was vexed with guilt over the sacrifices that Draco made for him. He really wanted to clarify things, or perhaps he was just a sadist who wanted to ruin the tenor of the again good spirits. He didn't know, he just had to ask, "Did you really kill your father over me?"

The lighthearted expression drained from Draco's face as he swallowed and then finally nodded. For a moment, his face pinched up with pain and incredible restraint and then his eyes closed and his brows furrowed. "Haven't we been over this? I guess... well... yes and no."

Harry's face held his question enough that Draco was moved to go on. "Well, yes. I did. But I don't want you to feel responsible for it. This was bound to be a conflict with my father anyways. I told you months ago I didn't intend to join up with the Death Eaters. I still think that there's merit in pureblooded lines, I just don't-- I'm not following the sort of man who'd send out a father to kill his own son, any more than I care to have a father who would actually do it."

Trying not to look hurt by that answer, Harry simply said, "Oh. You still hate--"

"Most people, yes," Draco broke in before Harry could finish. "But I can bloody well dislike people without killing them."

"You know, I'm not a pureblood," pointed out Harry.

"I am aware of this."

"But you just said that you dislike-"

"Most people, yes. There are loads of purebloods I can't stand," Draco said as he reached out to trace a pale finger along Harry's dark brow.

"Oh, I see," said Harry as he leaned his head forward so that Draco could caress his face further. "And so which side of the war are you going to be on? Or are you going to sit this one out and hope everyone dies?"

"Oooh, a whole world to myself? That sounds lovely," he teased and then sighed as he traced his finger gently over Harry's scar. "I don't know, which side are you taking?"

"The side that doesn't want me dead?"

"Oh, I suppose I'll take that side, then," drawled Draco as he withdrew his hand and just gazed fondly at Harry.

Harry returned the affectionate look, but felt compelled to get them back on the point. "There's going to be questions. The Ministry, you know. They'll want to know why you didn't use magic."

Again Draco's features collapsed into sorrow and his hand rose in a flippant gesture. "Father had his wand drawn. My wand was on the bed. I'd have been lucky to even touch my wand before a spell hit me. It was too far away."

"So you broke his neck," observed Harry.

"Father taught me himself that a broken neck was the most merciful physical death. I knew he wouldn't expect me to physically attack him. It was my only advantage," spoke Draco. His voice was rather remote and his quicksilver eyes had dropped to inspect an abstract pattern formed by the shadows of his rumpled sheets. Losing himself to a distracting vision was how he coped for the moment.

"So he wasn't an immediate threat?" asked Harry.

"Other than that he broke out of Azkaban on a mission to kill me? Well, I suppose at that precise moment I was giving the impression that I'd sacrifice you. I gave him a kiss; I know he didn't know it was a goodbye. So no, he didn't have his wand strictly on me at the moment. Then again, I didn't know when you'd be back. If you'd come through those doors..."

Harry nodded. He was again tempted to explain to Draco that he wouldn't have died. Who knows what would've happened if he'd taken a direct hit. Maybe it would've bounced off again? Or perhaps the prophecy worked in a much more complex way than that. Maybe fate had worked out that Harry simply wouldn't be there for situations like that. That ultimate question about destiny would have to wait for now. Draco told him at the beginning of the relationship not to tell him things such as the prophecy, so Harry decided to leave it. Let Draco believe he saved Harry's life. He was Harry's hero as far as Harry was concerned anyways. Best to let that be. "I know, Draco. I know. Thank you," he whispered to him. "Maybe... it would help your case for the Ministry if they thought that I was at the door."

"What?"

"Well if they thought you had a more urgent reason to kill your father right at that second then they wouldn't have so many questions?" offered Harry. Of course the Ministry didn't know about the prophecy either, which was another small mercy.

Draco considered this for a moment. "You'd have to lie, Harry. And what if they gave us Veritaserum?"

"For the matter of an escaped Death Eater convict who was going to murder the boy who lived? I'd be shocked. They don't normally do that unless you have a formal hearing, which I seriously doubt they'll waste their time with," stated Harry.

Running his hand over his forehead for a moment, Draco was clearly letting the wheels in his mind spin on this proposition. "Could anyone contradict you?"

"Just Snape."

Draco's brows furrowed and he let out a long sigh. "Can we count on him?"

"I think considering he's the one who broke the Secret Keeper's oath to begin with, he owes you," Harry said. On seeing Draco's outraged and hurt expression that Snape had betrayed him, something that had yet to occur to him, he added, "Although your father did torture him for it. Snape suffered the Cruciatus Curse."

Draco's fingers moved up to massage his temples in reaction to this information. "You would've died rather than tell my father where I was," he said.

Harry nodded to Draco. "Yes, but Snape thought you were going to come down to his office. He said that he didn't think you'd come down without me. That he just worded his note that way for your father's sake that he had hoped, at best, that you'd notify Dumbledore, or at the very least you'd bring me along. Would you have?"

That took a moment of thought. If he'd gotten a note such as that, would he have gone down to Snape's office alone? "Well, I didn't think that Snape had ulterior motives at the time. Although I wouldn't have wanted to walk the halls without any protection, so I would've brought you. Maybe under your Invisibility cloak if I wanted to maintain the illusion that I was doing as Snape asked. Still, that was an awfully huge gamble for Snape to make with our lives in the balance. Cunning though. Very Slytherin."

"Dumbledore wasn't impressed."

"He's a Gryffindor."

"Well, what do you think of it?"

"I think that I'm really tired, Harry. Can you stay?" asked Draco both to avoid answering that inquiry, which he wasn't sure he even could at that moment, but also because he was extraordinarily upset. Finding out that his father wanted him dead and then having to kill him was enough to register. Adding that his mentor not only had lascivious intentions towards him but also capriciously gambled his and Harry's life wore him down. He didn't think he could restrain himself much longer. Though he loved Harry and knew that his lover wouldn't see his distress as weakness, he was reluctant to break down in front of him.

"Yes," Harry said, flummoxed by the abrupt change of topic, but not entirely surprised by it either. He didn't know if he was allowed to stay or not. He hadn't asked. However, if they attempted to boot him out he'd-well, he didn't know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be good. He pushed it out of his mind. "I'll stay right here with you," he whispered. Pushing himself up onto the cot to spoon Draco's prone form, he pressed a soft kiss against his lips and was awarded with an eager knead in return. They held their languorous mix of tongues for a moment and then parted as Draco's hand slid up Harry's back and patted it to signal his wanting the kiss to end.

Tucking his head back down on Draco's chest, the Harry listened to the soft heart beat and erratic breathing. His fingers stilled over the starched white sheet over his lover's chest as if he had succumbed to slumber when he felt the beginning cadence of Draco's quiet sobs. Draco pretended to believe that Harry was asleep as he wept. Harry pretended not to feel the wetness of Draco's tears on his scalp or hear the irregular rhythm of his lover's wounded heart.


	19. Forever

Snape was unimpressed with the tableau before him. Harry was liberally wrapped around Draco, almost as if the golden boy were trying to protect Draco even in sleep. It was obvious that Draco had been cleaned but not dressed. The crisp white sheet was shoved down to just above Draco's pale jutting hipbone that revealed patches of lithe musculature where Harry wasn't covering him. Clumsily poking out from under the blankets was one of Draco's socked feet hanging off of the raised cot. Half of Draco's face was covered with black, wiry hair that flipped up as the boy exhaled. Harry's glasses lay askew on his face, and the Gryffindor's mouth gaped as he breathed over Draco's collarbone.

The Potions master couldn't say for certain whether Harry was permitted to be there or not. It was more likely than not that Harry _had_ been given permission to comfort Draco. Snape's nostrils flared in distaste. That meant that Harry had given his side of the story as well, which would paint Snape in a very unflattering light. This was dreadful. This was the sort of dreadful scenario that had kept Snape up all night pacing, fretting what he'd do should it come to this. How would he explain to Draco what he did and why he did it? Well, he couldn't. Not without revealing the truth. Although now, with Potter drowsing where he was, he certainly must have let Draco know all of it. Otherwise Draco would've thrown him out.

Debating his options, Snape slowly made his way through the wide room that smelled distinctly of antiseptic. He squinted hard as the metallic fixtures reflected light at him. Perhaps it was because of the disorienting glare that he didn't realize he was standing next to the bed until he was right there, on the opposite side of Potter's slumbering form. His cold, pallid hand struck out and extended a waxy finger that he let slide over the side of Draco's supple skin that was radiantly flushed peach in the morning light. Snape sighed as he looked up and admired Draco's features and tenderly slid a few stray tendrils of the platinum hair from the boy's face. The older man tried not to notice the exposed rosy nipple or the shadowy outline of Draco's barely-concealed pubescent prick under the sheet.

Draco was a notoriously light sleeper. Given the number of times he'd been in Snape's office at night whining about the slumbering bears that he had to endure in the presence of in his room, it was peculiar that it didn't occur to Snape that he might be feigning sleep. Malfoy had, in fact, awoken as soon as he heard the quiet clack of Snape's heavy boots on the stone floor of the infirmary. He wasn't ready to deal with the man just yet. Though he had believed that Harry thought that Snape was in love with him, he hadn't quite believed it. Draco worked desperately not to recoil from the reverent touches on his cheek and then over his brow. These very touches finally confirmed what Harry had told him. Draco felt nauseated.

The man's hand slid down his cheek to his shoulder and then down his bicep. Inwardly Draco shuddered as he started to wonder why he was enduring this. As much as he didn't want to deal with Snape talking to him, he certainly didn't want to deal with being felt up by the man he'd regarded as a father. He prayed that Harry would awaken and drive the Potions master out. Instead Snape's hand slid down Draco's arm to his thigh and from there to the shadowy outline of his.... Grey eyes flipped open and with a scornful sneer Draco fired out, "What are you _doing_?"

Snape jumped and looked wild-eyed for a split second before his eyes narrowed on the blond and he defiantly protested, "I knew you were awake."

Harry was just starting to twitch and rouse when Draco spat back, "You knew no such thing. You're _vile_ and _disgusting_ and I should have you _fired_!"

"Fired for what?" slurred Harry as he tried to get his arms to cooperate with his mind's plans, but they were sluggishly asleep from their awkward position.

Sneering, Snape agreed, "Exactly, for _what_ , Draco?" He knew he should have been more vigilant. It was an imprudent thing to do. Didn't he know better than to think that Draco slept that soundly?

"For your _touching_ me," hissed Draco.

"I _didn't_ ," Snape answered.

"You were about to. Had I not stopped you, I daresay I would've had your hand around my prick. It would be a shame for me to have to report that to the Headmaster," warned Draco.

"It would be, were I to have done it, which I didn't. Even if I had, you're a traumatized teen who just killed his father, who would believe _you_?" questioned Snape.

Draco paled and looked to Harry for help. Sadly, the golden boy was still groggily trying to figure out what was going on. Then the Slytherin had an idea. Quite the brilliant idea, really. Snape was a letch, and though that hurt Draco, it was a fact that wasn't going to change anytime soon. However, this could be of use, the wily blond reasoned. "Traumatized though I might be, I recognize someone reaching for my prick when I feel it. You do have a point about the Ministry, so I'm afraid that Harry will have to attest that he saw you fondling me. He was, after all, right there," said Draco, his sneer a challenge.

"DID HE?" shrieked Harry, who immediately shrugged off the last dregs of sleep. Draco nodded curtly to his lover who tried in vain to get his limp arms to cooperate so that he could grab his wand. His hand was just about to reach into his robe when Draco pulled his hand down and shook his head.

It was Snape's turn to blanch, which he did as he watched first Draco and then Harry. He glared at Malfoy. "Yet, you haven't called for the headmaster yet, Malfoy. So, I must have something you want. You always were the apt pupil. I should be proud."

Draco balked at the notion that Snape might be proud of anything that he did but he masked his look of distaste. "There is something I want from you. I need you to go before the Ministry to testify that my father was an imminent threat to Harry when I killed him. You must say you were there. You don't have to say that you saw anything, we're simply _compressing_ the timeline a bit to make it _easier_ for the Ministry to _understand_ how things really happened," Draco spelled out with meaningful intonations.

"I see," said Snape as he pondered what this meant. "It was self defense either way, Malfoy, I am uncertain why my testimony is required. Nevertheless, you do not need to blackmail me for this, I will do it for you freely," he spoke with the tenderness of a father as he reached out to pat Malfoy's shoulder. Harry's keen eyes squinted at the approaching hand as he started to feel his temper flare.

With a haughtily elegant gesture, Draco's hand rose and swatted Snape's hand away before it reached its destination. "It is simply more convenient for me to do it this way. There will be no questioning my testimony; I should only have to go over the story once or twice, which will lessen my personal stress," said Draco as Harry squeezed his hands to regain feeling. Instead of attacking Snape, as he wanted to, he let Draco bargain as he slipped his hand into Draco's to squeeze it. It was almost disquieting how distant Draco seemed as he spoke, how callous and impassive.

Draco clutched Harry's hand back and his grey eyes flicked back to the boy for a moment revealing his immense sadness before they steeled over again as he turned his head to glower at Snape. "As for simply _asking_ you to do this, I do not wish to owe you anything. You've proven yourself undeserving of my trust. You nearly got me killed and on top of that, you attempted to molest me in my sick bed. Because of this, part of my not telling Dumbledore about your improper advances will include your leaving me alone. We will have no more friendly contact. From now on we will be nothing more than a regular teacher and student."

"Indeed," said Snape as he turned a bit red in the face, but what could he say? As much as he wanted to give Draco detention for his cheek, how would it look if the boy spoke up to Dumbledore? It was one thing to put off Potter's hysterical ranting as lunatic, quite another for this message to come from someone so seemingly close to Snape as Draco. He was stuck. And cut. Though there was still a glimmer of inward pride that it was he who had taught the Slytherin these tricks. However, having it used against him was less than amusing. "I will write up a report for the Ministry then."

After stepping back a pace, Snape paused to look at the boys again and then returned Draco's defiant stare. "I understand, Draco--"

" _Malfoy_ ," emphasized Draco, much to Harry's delight in the irony of the correction.

Hesitating again, Snape nodded his acknowledgment of Draco's order and began again. "I understand, _Malfoy_ , that you have chosen to believe what you wish. What Potter tells you, however, isn't always an _accurate_ representation of the truth. I hope that you would recognize that and give me the opportunity to clarify any misunderstandings. I did what I thought was best, and please do take into account that I did not have time to plan," he said, trying to ignore the way Draco's face was reddening and twitching in his attempt to conceal his emotions and that Harry was digging for his wand again. "In the end we are all on the same side. We must learn to trust one another and work together. What is coming is much bigger than this petty squabble."

"Or your pederasty," hissed Harry as he squeezed at Draco's hand to get the Slytherin to release his death grip. It was clear that Draco was channeling much of his frustration into wringing Harry's hand to mash. As much as Harry wished to be there for him, if Draco gripped him any harder he was going to break a bone, which would make Harry scream.

Ignoring that remark, Snape carried on. "To that end, I have arranged with Dumbledore to excuse you from the last of your classes and, of course, your exams. Though this whole... affair... has distracted you to the point of lesser marks. Nevertheless, you have been a capable wizard and this current business is more of a strain than a student should bear. As your head of house and as one who _cares_ , it was the least I could do for you." Snape held up his hand to keep both boys from screeching protests.

"No matter what the two of you have chosen to believe about my motivations, the fact that I care has never been in debate. Nor will my concern for Draco cease. Now, since you have asked that I leave you be, and because I do respect your wishes-- I reiterate that blackmail was not needed-- I shall leave you to your... boy. My report per your specifications, Malfoy, shall be to the Ministry within the hour with a copy to you so that our stories will stay straight. Good day to you both." With that, Snape swept out of the infirmary in a swirl of black robes. Never once looking back.

\--

The Ministry hadn't been particularly interested in the circumstances leading up to the Malfoy patricide. It was awkward enough for the ruling body to have lost track of the infamous Death Eater, worse yet that the man had headed straight for a school and attacked a student. Adding the messy complications was Harry's questionable sexuality and how it played into the sordid affair. Follow that with a deluge of reports, with follow up interviews that Lucius Malfoy was an imminent threat to their golden boy, and the whole matter was done with a signed statement and no trial.

With Snape's near-banishment from Draco's life and Dumbledore's tacit agreement, Harry had all but moved into Draco's room. Though he saw Hermione and Ron plenty during classes and in the evenings before it was safe to escape Gryffindor, they were generally too busy cooing and preening one another to even notice that Harry was around. At first he thought they were still giving him the cold shoulder. After a few run-ins with angry Slytherins who thought that the boy who was queer picked an unseemly way to exit the closet, taking their fearless leader with him, he found his friends always there backing him up.

So Ron and Hermione kissed each other instead of a celebratory group hug? Harry knew how they felt. Maybe he would've been upset or felt left out had this happened before he'd found Draco. That was hard to say. For now, though, the love was new and a general feeling of euphoric good will flowed through the trio. Some of the Gryffindors still gave him disgruntled looks and whispered after he passed, but all in all, new gossip replaced the old. Particularly since Draco was flying under the radar.

Much of Draco's swagger had been sapped. Though Dumbledore had written it off to the magnitude of the situation finally being impressed upon the adolescent, Harry could tell that the headmaster was concerned. Even Harry was a bit fretful, although when he visited with Draco, he seemed all right. He was never dull of wit until he was properly worn out, which Harry never had a problem doing. After he'd, as Draco put it, "ridden him hard and put him away wet," Harry would try to pry more about Draco's state of mind. In response he'd get the characteristic biting remarks usually followed by very shrill and obviously fake snoring.

As far as Harry could tell, Draco spent most of the day sleeping or tackling the mound of paperwork that read in legalese about deeds and inheritances. A couple of times Harry caught sight of the blond flying over the Quidditch pitch. When asked, Draco would enigmatically deny it. The precise nature of what Draco did would never be discovered. Draco was mourning. To the slight blond, mourning was a private occasion and the emotions that he felt were his alone. It gave him time to think about his life, the direction it taking now and what he might want.

Conceivably that was the most morbidly superb thing about this tribulation. His life had been pretty well dictated by his parents up until this point. This was normal; parents must set up strict guidelines for their children to follow if they are to succeed. Or at least that is what Draco had grown up believing. What went far afoot of what the proper thing as parents to plan out for a child was Lucius's untenable grip on Draco's future. Certainly a good portion of what he would be doing in the next couple of years involved war, and perhaps now wasn't the time to put too much stock into planning beyond that. It was as likely as not that he would fall in the battle. Or even more devastating, that Harry might die and leave him here alone.

Still, the concept of freedom, being free to do whatever he wanted to do, whether it be to become a painter, poet, Auror, or even just laze about the Manor was all completely up to him. It was dizzying and difficult, and Draco had a hard time deciding whether he liked it or not. What if he made the wrong decision? Then again, there was no one really in a position to criticize. His father was gone and Harry just wouldn't.

Draco Malfoy was free. It was difficult and excruciating to endure, but here he was contemplating his future, loving Harry with no one other than his inner demons to argue it. His life lay ahead of him like a flat field with no obvious road paved for him. For the first time, Draco could blaze his own trails.

\--

At the last minute, before the students were to move their trunks and assorted belongings down to the carriages, Draco was called away to talk to Dumbledore. Harry secretly thought that this was a farce to trick Harry into lugging Draco's trunk around. Sitting in the last available thestral-powered carriage, he waited for Draco to join him. His heart sank as the lurching cabin signified that Draco wasn't joining him. On top of the disappointment, he was worried about what was going on. Certainly Draco didn't have anyone else in his life that could've died. On top of it all, Harry really wasn't sure what to do with Draco's trunk.

Harry was so inside of his own head that he barely noticed that he had arrived at the platform. Letting out a long sigh, Harry stood up and gripped both trunks by their handles, noting that his was so plain next to Draco's writhing carved trunk. Turning around he dragged the trunks along behind him and moved to the platform. Once there, he saw Tonks waving to him and pointing to one of the cars. "Tonks!" exclaimed Harry, letting go of his worry for a moment to greet the platinum-haired Auror.

"Harry, good to see you. You're looking well!" she said as she gave him a tight hug and whispered, "He's in the third car from the back. We had a bit of a scare, a vague threat. I got to play bait!"

"That explains the hair," said Harry as he leaned back from the embrace and then managed a weak but bothered smile. "How is he?"

"Wretched," she answered flatly.

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry in concern that Draco was upset.

"No, not like that. He's just an evil little twerp. Called me a half-breed at least half a dozen times, stopping those slurs to brag that you'd have to carry his trunk for him," she said with a very put upon sigh. "So he must be in a pretty foul mood," she observed. "I was this close," she said, pinching her fingers together to demonstrate, "To letting the Death Eaters have him!"

Harry couldn't help but smirk, even though he was a bit exasperated that Draco would abuse someone trying to protect him. Then again? He was irrepressibly who he was. Draco Malfoy, the churlish bigot. "Actually it sounds like he was in a good mood."

"That's his _good_ mood?" asked Tonks. "I don't know what you see in him, Harry. I really don't." Looking at Harry's defensive expression, she added, "It must be love."

"It is," stated Harry, blushing. This wasn't the first time that someone had questioned his attraction to Draco and he was fairly certain it was a query he would answer a lot in the future.

"Well, good luck with _that_ ," said Tonks as she grinned at Harry. "You'll have your own cabin with Draco and the rest of the car is filled with members of your 'Dumbledore's Army and a couple of Aurors. We don't expect it to be a problem, though. The tip we got said it would happen on the platform. So you should be all clear. Now get!" she said, shooing Harry away with her hands.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He smiled at her and gave his thanks and then quickly made his way to the proper car and loaded on. Halfway down the hallway, he saw Malfoy sitting dejected and alone in a compartment. His arms were crossed over his stomach and he seemed annoyed and a bit bored. Harry tried to open the door, but found it locked and knocked. Beaming, Draco hopped up and opened the door for Harry. "Ah, finally the boy with the bags!"

"Do I get a tip, then?" asked Harry as he shuffled in with both trunks. Draco closed the door and pulled his wand to seal it closed again and then drew the blinds.

"A tip? Well, all right," Draco said as he pocketed his wand and eyed Harry critically. "Buy something that fits, you're past your growth spurt years and even if you weren't, that looks awful," he said as he waved his hand to indicate Harry's garments.

"They're the clothes my Aunt and Uncle give me," he said and shrugged. Harry rolled his eyes and hoisted his trunk up to the space above their heads and then looked down at the other boy's trunk and then to Draco who was looking expectantly back at him. Knowing that Draco wasn't going to move his own trunk, Harry did it for him, shaking his head. "I'd ask for another tip, but-"

"Brown belt with black trousers? Please," drawled Draco as he shook his head back at Harry.

"But my shoes and belt match. You said-"

"So much to learn," Draco said, smirking victoriously that his trunk was put away for him. Draco flopped back onto the bench seat and patted a spot for Harry to sit next to him.

"Anyway," said Harry as he took the spot next to Draco who put his arm around him. "Did you get to really talk to Dumbledore? Did he give you options for next year?" he quizzed knowing that Draco was quite concerned about where he was going to stay.

"I did talk to him. For hours, actually."

"You... did?" asked Harry, looking bewildered.

"Time turner. Actually I talked to him for hours and then he wound it back and now I've been _here_ for hours. Long day."

"Oh right, that thing. So, what did he say?" asked Harry as he put his own around Draco.

"He confessed that he, like Snape, was in love with me."

"He WHAT?" shrieked Harry, completely oblivious to Draco's ill-hidden sneer.

"Then he spent the rest of the time shagging me. The man has endurance; I'll give him that. But really Harry, it meant nothing. He just said if I didn't comply that he'd let the Death Eaters have me. I didn't want to, I just... had to. Please tell me you understand," said Draco with an angelically placid expression.

"WHAT?" asked Harry again as he stared hard at Draco, barely blinking as he tried to rationalize what he'd just heard. He paled and clutched his stomach. Harry had just started to wheeze when Draco reached out and caressed his cheek.

"Please tell me you're not that gullible. I can't be in love with a boy who thinks I'd let Dumbledork _touch_ me," insisted Draco as he started to pull back his hand.

"So he didn't touch you?"

"Harry. Don't be daft."

"ASS! You are such an _ASS_!" remarked Harry as he shook his head in disbelief that Draco would even think of such a story.

Draco smirked and rolled his eyes as he inclined forward again and pulled Harry to him. "He gave me some options. I'm well past OWLS so I could quit school and still practice magic. It would limit my career options, however. Not that I need a career. But should I want one, not having NEWTS would be bad. But I _could_ still hire a tutor to teach me lessons and then take the NEWTS with the rest of you."

"If you quit school, how would I see you?" Harry asked as the train jolted and started to move.

"Weekends? I don't know. If this situation really is that dire then it would be better to see me off and on than have me slaughtered," Draco pointed out.

"Well, yes, I do see your point. Were there other options that did include you going to school? Can you be sorted into Gryffindor?" asked Harry hopefully.

"No. The Sorting Hat is the final word on your house and that can't be changed. Besides, a Slytherin is what I am. I'm not changing houses even if I could."

"Gryffindor is brilliant! Better than Slytherin! At least no one in my house has tried to _kill_ me! Slytherins go bad!"

"It's not who I am, Harry. Anyways, wasn't _Pettigrew_ a Gryffindork? Being in your house wouldn't guarantee my safety. However, Dumbledore did say that if I behave myself this summer he might consider making me Head Boy and there is a provision for Head Boys and Head Girls to have their own rooms should they require cloistering. That is, in fact, the room I was staying in."

"Why would Head... people... need to be shut away from the students?" asked Harry.

Draco shrugged, "I guess they have to crack down on people like teachers do. Punishing people you live with likely wouldn't make you very popular and you'd have to sleep some time. I'd assume that is why. Or it's just a perk. I don't know."

Harry took that in for a moment and then shrugged. Maybe that sort of thing would happen in Slytherin, but he couldn't imagine a Gryffindor attacking one of his or her own, punishment or not. "Oh. Where are you staying this summer?"

"At the Order headquarters. I have to stay inside all of the time and hide. It's not safe for me outside."

"You're all right with that?" asked Harry hoping he wouldn't have another desperate person on his hands.

"It's preferable to being killed. And I do want to do my bit for the cause. The Dark Lord killed my mother and sent my father after me. Not to mention he's said some pretty nasty things about my boyfriend. He's off my Christmas list," quipped Draco.

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco was being caustic again. It was likely a reaction to mentioning his mother's death. Draco was becoming easier for Harry to read. He rather liked knowing what was going on inside that blond head. He was about to add that Voldemort had also tried to kill him on several occasions, when there was a knock at the door. "Sweets from the trolley?" a cheerful woman's voice asked.

Heedlessly, Harry threw open the door as Draco shouted for him not to. Luckily it really was the lunch trolley. "A bit of everything!" Harry said brightly, remembering how he'd done this the first year and how fun it was to eat the sweets with Ron. He felt a stab at missing Ron, but he was probably snogging Hermione. The thought made him smile as he took the baggie of goodies from the woman and closed the door. Again Draco hexed it shut. "Maybe I should lock it from the inside as well, Harry?"

"Sorry about that. I guess... sweets just make me excited."

"Don't call me 'sweets,'" quipped Draco as he smirked at Harry. "And don't eat all of that. I won't have you getting all spotty and fat."

"You say the sweetest things, Draco," Harry said as he started to unpack the baggie and set the food out. "It's for the both of us."

"I won't have _me_ getting spotty or fat either! Furthermore, I am sweet."

"What if I did get spotty and fat?" asked Harry as he started to unwrap a Cauldron Cake.

"I'd have to find a new savior to perv on," answered Draco as he leaned in to grab some Chocolate Frogs.

"You're not sweet at all, Draco!" exclaimed Harry before he mashed the cake into the other boy's sharp, egotistical face. "NOW you're sweet," Harry retorted.

"I'm only sweet because of you," joked Draco through the crumbling cake. With lynx-like grace, Draco was up and mashing his lips and more importantly, his cake covered face against Harry's. Popping open the Chocolate Frogs in his hands he forced two of them down Harry's pants causing the youth to gasp in both surprise and the odd sensation of animated confections unsettling his length.

"This is so on!" screeched Harry as he grabbed up the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Opening the container, he let the beans loose down Draco's shirt back.

"You little cockboggart!" cried Draco as he grabbed a Pumpkin Pasty and mashed in into Harry's ebony hair.

In response, Harry brandished two Licorice Wands and held them up in the sign of a cross as if it would ward off Draco who started setting all of the Chocolate Frogs loose into the compartment as he giggled maniacally.

Seeing that that didn't stave off his evil boyfriend, Harry threw the wands at Draco and started to launch the Cauldron Cakes at him. Draco ducked and giggled frantically. The cakes made a disappointing flat thud against the wall and bench seat of the compartment, but more than made up for their lack of auditory impact with the theatrical spray of crumbs. In retaliation, Draco grabbed another Pumpkin Pasty and threw it at Harry, who had already ducked to fetch a couple of the Chocolate Frogs that hadn't been smashed into the floor.

Hearing the wet splat of the dessert hitting the wall behind him, Harry's head flew up and he peered at the scattered mess of orange behind him and cackled. "Too slow! Now you're going to get it!" came his battle cry as he tackled Draco to the floor and pinned his knees into Draco's thighs. Harry reached down to yank down the green and grey tie. He made rather short work of the buttons down Draco's shirt as the silver-eyed boy watched him.

Draco peered at the door and figured no one could really get in without a fuss anyway. If the racket didn't upset the others by now, they weren't likely to be upset by what he figured Harry was about to do. Reaching up, Draco grabbed the hem of Harry's t-shirt and tugged it over his head. The shirt collar caught Harry's glasses and he had to stop to grab them before they flew off. "You're turning into such a dirty boy. Look at this mess and you're going to molest me?" Draco asked.

"Shut up already," grumbled Harry as he traced the chocolate around Draco's nipples and then wrote his name over Draco's chest. "It's your fault for throwing wiggling things down my pants. I completely expect you to clean that up, you know," said Harry as he lowered his face to lick tenderly at the chocolate over Draco's chest. The confection-covered Slytherin writhed and whimpered under the warm tongue lapping him. The idea of cleaning the chocolate off of Harry's prick on the train home was almost more than Draco could bear. He almost creamed his pants at the notion. Instead he rutted his hips up and reached down Harry's body to unfasten his jeans.

"My fault, hmm? I ruined your virtuous trip home?" asked Draco as he pushed Harry's pants down along with his boxers and smirked at the smudges of chocolate on the other boy's prick. "You're such a messy boy," he said as he tugged Harry up.

Harry shimmied out of his pants and quickly undid Draco's as he kissed the other boy deeply. Breaking the kiss he continued to walk up his body on his knees and then pressing his hands into the compartment floor, he turned himself around and slowly lowered himself over Draco's face. He moved forward, lowering his length into Draco's gaping mouth. Harry groaned as the velvety warmth surrounded and pulled at his prick. Then the golden boy picked up Draco's length and held it to his parted lips and breathed humidly over it. "I suppose I am a dirty boy," he whispered as he slipped his tongue over the head, prodding the point of his tongue into the slit and then he spiraled his tongue around in wider strokes until he engulfed Draco's perfect pink prick.

Feeling the prick skim past his gag reflex, Draco could do little other than glide his tongue around the chocolate flavored erection that stabbed into his mouth. It was almost forceful to be taken this way and Draco was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. His throat constricted and undulated around Harry's cock as he felt the boy who lived draw his needy erection into his mouth and caress it with his tongue.

Draco hummed and shivered under Harry, the head of his lover's prick scraped the back of his throat as he turned his head to vary the sensations. Harry was similarly suckling and grazing his teeth along the sensitive shaft and skillfully over the head of Draco's cock, causing whimpers and keening. Draco was close, so close. He could feel his stomach bunching and burning. He was just about to explode when Harry pulled his body and mouth away brusquely. "What... are... you... doing... you... dag?" panted Draco whose expression anguished from the denied release.

"I want you. I don't want to come like this; we're not going to see each other for a while," gasped Harry breathily.

Kicking his pants off, Draco nodded his comprehension. Of course, at this point he would've done anything to get off. He'd been so frustratingly close, and given Harry's blotchy face and matted, sweat-soaked hair, so had he. Draco hopped up onto his knees on the bench seat and splayed his legs open wide, which lowered him down a bit. His hot pink hole stretched out in front of Harry enticingly and the brunet couldn't resist dropping down for a moment to run his tongue over it. He took an unsullied Pumpkin Pasty and dug his thick fingers into it and the slid the warm pumpkin mash over the puckered hole and then slithered his tongue over it. He suctioned his lips around the hole and delved his tongue in to taste the strange tang and feel the warmth of the walls surrounding a different organ.

Draco's graceful hands walked up the wall, seeking purchase as he tilted to one side. Tucking his face against his arm, he started to wail his bliss at the loving heat of Harry's tongue inside of him. Finally his fingers found the grate of the overhead bin and he gripped it madly, sobbing in pleasure. "Merlin Harry, _more_!" he cried.

Straight away, Harry stood and slid the grease on his hand from the pasty over his length, wringing it a few times before he angled up and pressed the head against the relaxed hole. He thrust in quickly, gripping at Draco's hips as the pale boy ground back against him, forcing Harry to move in sooner and deeper than he'd really intended. Draco's fingers tightened on the shelf as he slapped his body back against Harry's surging. It slammed the head of Harry's prick into his prostate savagely, causing Draco and Harry to cry out in chorus. After a few more hard strokes like that, their bodies covered in sweat and sweets, they came simultaneously. Draco's cock rained pearlescent leavings over the burgundy seat as Harry filled Draco.

Harry pulled Draco back into his arms, but then lost the ability to remain upright and both boys crumpled to the floor. The brunet had been clutching Draco so tightly that they stayed connected through the fall, which made Draco's lips curve into an amused smirk. Though the landing had been uncomfortable, they were otherwise in a spooning embrace that both boys were loath to leave.

After recovering for the next few minutes, Draco was the first to move, he let out a long and sated sigh as he peered around at their mess. He could feel the train starting to slow which announced their final approach to the train station. They needed to get up and clean, a notion that made Draco groan loudly. He'd grown quite accustomed to finishing with Harry, having a chat and falling asleep entwined. Getting dressed and cleaning sounded like the least appealing thing to do; especially given the extended day he'd endured and doubled by the fact that he wouldn't see his lover for at least a week. "I don't want to get up," fussed Draco.

"You'd rather they burst in here and find us naked and covered in sweets?" asked Harry as he reluctantly pushed himself up to look at the blond.

"I thought you'd licked all of that off of me. You left some? Lazy boy," he teased. Draco winced as Harry's flaccid length left his body, which made him feel empty and achy. Moving up onto his elbows, he felt come dribbling out and let out another long sigh. "A week."

"I know. I'm sorry. At least you'll be staying with the Order. Why are you staying there, anyway?" Harry asked as he stood up on his knees and pulled up his pants.

"Dumbledore doesn't think it would be safe for the Tonkses or me if I stayed there. So I'll be hiding out for the summer," said Draco, trying hard to smile about it. While he supposed that Dumbledore didn't wish to see him dead, Draco believed that this level of consideration mostly because he was with the golden boy. The headmaster repeatedly stressed to Draco how hard it would be on Harry if Draco were murdered (although Draco maintained that his death would be harder on himself), or that Voldemort may even wish to kidnap Draco in order to lure Harry into a trap. The cunning boy understood the lecture, although it wasn't necessary. Draco wasn't the bravest of boys. He wasn't going to run out and leave himself open to attack.

Harry brightened remembering he'd get to stay with Draco for the summer. Sure, the week would be miserable, but it was only a week, wasn't it? "Good... great!" he said gleefully, pulling his shirt back on. "Hiding out with me!" he beamed on. "You'd better get your clothes back on before we get to the station," he warned.

"Right, right," groaned Draco as he sat up and winced again. Turning to his side, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, following it up with pulling his pants and boxers back on after staggering up. When the train finally pulled to a jerky stop, Draco grabbed onto Harry for balance and the two boys embraced until the train was stopped and then for a few moments after. "I love you, Harry," said Draco quietly.

"I love you too," said Harry, unwilling to let go of the blond, if even for just a week. Still, someone would be coming for them soon enough and the room smelled like sex and candy. "I don't want to go," said Harry.

Draco sighed wistfully and withdrew. "Me neither, but we're going to have to. And since I don't want everyone to know what a dirty food fetishist you are," he said as he pulled his wand. "I'll clean this up. Be a dear and get my trunk down," drawled Draco.

Shaking his head at Draco for making him do the heavy lifting again, he dragged down Draco's trunk as well as his own as the fragile blond spelled the cabin and the both of them clean. Pocketing his wand, Draco leaned against his trunk as he watched Harry righting his, ready to leave. "Are you coming?" asked Harry.

"No, I have to stay here. They're going to come and get me in a group and then take me to headquarters," said Draco.

"Wow, you need a lot of guarding," observed Harry, although he understood. Draco could be slain by anyone. Only one person could kill Harry and that wasn't likely to happen on a train platform. Particularly since Voldemort still didn't know how to kill Harry.

"I'm precious cargo," pointed out Draco as he rocked to his toes, preening at how special he thought himself. Harry rolled his eyes theatrically.

"Do you want me to wait with you?" asked Harry.

"No, you have your _people_ waiting for you out there. I'd hate to deprive you of your goodbyes to your _friends_ ," sneered Draco, drawing out "friends" in a way that made it clear that he still didn't much care for Hermione and Ron and likely saw them as competition.

"That's very big of you, Draco," said Harry who chose to ignore the goading. He'd have the whole summer to argue with Draco over his friends. "So this is goodbye?"

"Just for the week," said Draco.

"It will be a long week," said Harry as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his lover. Draco snuggled against Harry and pressed his lips against the Gryffindor's as well.

Brushing his lips against Harry's he said, "Of course it will be. You'll miss me terribly." Before Harry could respond, Draco parted his lips and engaged his tongue in a lengthy and languid kiss. Draco was just starting to wonder if they might have time for more when there was a loud banging on their door.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron's voice sounded.

"Time to go!" Hermione called.

Draco broke the kiss and made a displeased face. Harry brought his hands up and caressed Draco's cheeks and traced downwards with his index fingers till they were pushing in the corners of Draco's mouth up into a smile. Harry then leaned forward and kissed the forced grin and whispered, "Next week. I love you."

"I love you, too," responded Draco, rolling his eyes at Harry's actions. He left the silly, forced grin on his face when Harry removed his fingers and watched him take up his trunk and open the door. Harry dragged the trunk behind him to the door and opened it to excited yips from his goofy friends.

_If he turns to look at me before he leaves with his friends, he's mine forever._

_If he's still looking when I turn around, we'll always be together._

Before he made it all the way out of the cabin, Harry looked back over his shoulder to see Draco still smiling at him.

_Forever._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Peg for the beta work, Toni and De for the inspiration and encouragement!


End file.
